All the Stars in the Sky
by Atropine
Summary: Fred and Gene. It'd take a miracle, and a very persistent one at that. All the stars in the sky would fall first, right? You'd better get ready for the meteor shower. Shounen ai, you've been warned. R&R if you feel like it.
1. A Rough Start

**Author's Note:** Where to begin...well, I'm writing this for the ever-popular 30kisses themes found on LiveJournal, which means two things: 1) chapter titles are not going to be very original, and 2) every one of these chapters will be featuring a kiss between our favourite mismatched pair. Is anyone else disturbed by the severe lack of Fred/Gene fiction out there, or am I just not looking hard enough?

Yes, this is a romantic story about two guys, Fred Luo/Lou/Low as you please and Gene Starwind. I'm not writing this for you, so if you don't like the idea please go away without a fuss.

**Disclaimer:** I in no way, shape or form own any part of Outlaw Star, nor am I in any way profiting off of this. Except in giggles. Can you get sued over giggles?

**Red**

_There are a lot of red things in the universe. Out of those, few express the kind of raging passion, the bold determination, and the sheer fiery spirit that the colour stands for. Fewer still embrace this part of their identity and truly live up to it._

"It's that one part of you, Gene…unmistakable from any distance, and now quite an infamous way of giving yourself away."

"Huh?"

Fred laughed softly. "Oh nothing; I'll just do anything to get that adorable confused look on your face," he said, twisting a lock of Gene's hair around one finger playfully. They were both seated on the sofa in Fred's office, a little too closely for Gene's tastes.

Gene yanked his head out of range. "Knock that off, Fred. I came here to talk business, remember?"

"We can get right down to business if you want, Gene," Fred replied, throwing an arm around the other man's shoulders and leaning in close. "Now…what kind of _business_ did you have in mind?"

"Definitely _not_ the same kind as you have in yours," Gene grumbled, trying to wiggle free. For his efforts the dark-haired merchant only clung tighter, throwing a leg over his own as well. "Hey!"

"Gene…" Fred breathed the name out, staring into Gene's dark eyes. The redhead froze, desperate not to close the distance between them.

"Urk…what are you doing!" Gene said after a pause, redoubling his efforts at gaining freedom.

"Gene," Fred drawled out again with a small smile. "How long have we known each other now?"

"Too long in my book," Gene grumbled, managing to squeeze out of Fred's grasp enough to slither further down the sofa. He stopped for a second to regain his breath, having had it nearly hugged out of him. He realized his mistake in this, however, when Fred took the chance to crawl atop him and pin him to the sofa. "Get off me!" he hollered, trying to push him off. Fred was surprisingly unmoved.

"Gene," he repeated, bringing his face a mere breath away from the redhead's; Gene was suddenly silenced. "Do you remember when we first met all those years ago?"

"W-we were just brats, Fred, our dad's knew each other from way back," Gene said quickly before the amorous merchant leaned in any closer.

"Isn't that so…" Fred said softly, almost to himself. "Maybe you don't remember after all." He slipped slowly off of Gene, drawing back pensively.

Gene breathed a sigh of relief and sat back up. "What's to remember anyway? My dad had to take me along to the store one day when you happened to be there. Not much else to it."

"Hmm," Fred smiled to himself. "I should be hurt at how you could have forgotten our fated first meeting, Gene. But I think I can forgive you."

Gene blinked confusedly. "You're not gonna raise my debt to you as revenge, are you?" he asked, eyes going wide at the mere thought.

"Oh no, I wouldn't do a thing like that! Especially not when I know you'll be needing me to supply your ship soon and for who _knows_ how many years afterward," Fred replied, rubbing the rim of his ear between his thumb and forefinger. Somehow Gene didn't look very relieved to hear this. "No, I'll forgive you if you let me tell you how we first met!"

"Is that really all?" Gene asked, frowning.

"Of course! I'm not cold-hearted like _you_, after all," Fred added sulkily. "Now, Gene; do you know what first led me to start liking you?"

Gene was thrown off by the sudden question. "Uh…."

"Much as I desire to hear more of your low manly grunting, no that's not it." He paused to relish the faint pink tint coming into Gene's cheeks even through his frown before continuing. "On that day when we first met, I saw you walk into our shop behind your father. You were a gangly thing back then…you kind of are even now, as a matter of fact," he added, sizing up the lanky man in front of him.

"Are you goin' somewhere with this?" Gene asked irritably, crossing his arms defensively in front of his chest.

Fred chuckled. "You weren't as surly or sulky though, that's for sure. Not around your father."

Gene didn't say anything to that, only staring straight ahead of him.

"Anyway…" Fred continued, softening. "You walked in, and it immediately caught my eye and captured my heart."

"What did?" Gene was forced to ask after a pause.

"That special thing about you that everyone is inevitably drawn to; the thing that drives them wild; that thing that makes you you, something far more powerful than your reputation or determined spirit."

Gene gave him a look that clearly said, _'What the hell _can_ you be blabbering about, you florid lunatic?' _that made Fred's smile widen. He didn't say anything further though, and once again Gene was forced to speak. "…Um…what is that?"

"Your hair, of course," Fred said, beaming with an almost catlike grin.

Gene nearly fell over at the anticlimactic response, finally dropping his guard. Not one to waste an opportunity this golden, Fred pounced forward onto the unsuspecting redhead and planted a nipping kiss right on his lips.

Wide-eyed with shock at the dark-haired man's audacity, Gene was too stunned to react, if only for a split second. He quickly regained his senses and shoved Fred off of him and scrambled off the couch, panting.

"Oh? Did I really take your breath away, Gene?" Fred purred, still on the couch.

Gene made a strangled noise in the back of his throat and struggled to find the words to express just how much he did not appreciate that comment. "You--! You can't just--! What the f--! ARGH!" And with that final snarl of rage, Gene turned on his heel and ran for the door, not even bothering to slam it shut for all he was worth.

Fred let out a tiny sigh and turned onto his back on the couch. "Well, that could have gone better. But it could have gone a lot worse too…" Hugging a throw pillow to his chest, Fred couldn't suppress a light giggle. "And he'll be back."


	2. Catch and Release

**Author's Note:** Eek, it's been a lot longer than I thought since I first posted this. Sorryyyy. Every time I go to write another chapter for this, plot bunnies for other fandoms seem to strike out of nowhere. Anyway, I just really wanted to point out that the titles of the chapters in the chapter selection panel are going to be different from the ones you'll see written below- this is intentional. The one heading each page is the name of the theme the chapter is based on, and the ones in the chapter selection panel are the actual names of each chapter.

If this confuses you, just smile, nod, and move on. >.>;

**Disclaimer:** I DON'T OWN THEM, SO STOP FOLLOWING ME YOU DUMB LAWYERS.

**The Road Home**

_A man's home is his pride; it is the place he deems worthy of sinking his roots into, the place he will always aim for no matter how far he strays or for how long. He may outwit those that would pursue him when away from home, but if they can find his roots they can find the rest of him. A man will always, always return home._

_- - -_

A few weeks had passed since Fred had jumped Gene with the surprise liplock. Though Fred had every belief in the reluctant redhead's return, even he had to admit three weeks with no contact was pushing it.

"There is no way he could have gone on a long trip without having me supply his ship first!" he complained to his ever-present and sympathetic bodyguards. They both nodded and muttered their own agreements to their young master.

Fred sighed and flopped onto the couch where the infamous kiss had taken place. He had to admit it - he was losing the battle of who could wait it out the longest. He thought for sure that Gene would come back within a week, even if it was to supply his ship for a year-long trip just to get away from the eager merchant.

Groaning faintly, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, crossing his arms. "Hmm…" he let out, his brow furrowed in thought. The bodyguards said nothing, not wanting to disrupt their master's thought processes.

"Got it!" Fred said, standing up with a grin. "Come on, boys, we're going on a reconnaissance mission."

------

Fred Luo was a well-known merchant. His family had been in the business for generation upon generation, thanks to their ability to go with the flow of heady, changing times. As the sole heir to this esteemed empire that crossed the solar system, he was the culmination of the best of each and every generation of Luo's thus far. In short - Fred Luo had connections.

He had been escorted by his endlessly loyal bodyguards and driven around Sentinel 3 for half the day, paying visitations to said connections and, in some cases, calling in favors from them. The three were now enjoying a hard day's work at the bar, Fred positively glowing with the inside information he had gathered.

"Kampaaai!" He cheered, raising his glass with the two hulks sitting on either side of him.

"Kampaaai." They responded as one. Sometimes Fred couldn't help wondering if they were grown from the same petri dish - not that he was complaining; after all, genetic enhancements had yet to let him down.

"Don't go overboard now, boys," Fred said after downing his drink. "We've got to be ready to intercept my wayward outlaw tomorrow morning, bright and early."

The two bodyguards gave grunts of assent, sipping slowly at their own glasses. It hadn't been easy, but somehow Fred had managed to needle information about Gene's whereabouts - he had even 'convinced' an old business partner of his to spill that a certain infamous red grappler ship was currently on the scenic route leading back to Sentinel 3, a move made surely to avoid detection by the lovesick male merchant.

"Ah! That Gene…going to all that trouble just for me!" he smiled over his empty glass at no one in particular. "He really is a sweet guy, if not on the naïve side for thinking something like that would work."

He laughed to himself, throwing some money on the counter and leading the way out of the bar and back to the black town car waiting for them out front; he had some preparations to make.

------

"Everyone in position?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent!" Fred allowed himself to indulge in a yawn. They had had to wake up at the crack of dawn in order to get this far ahead of the Outlaw Star on their course for home. Though it was for a good cause - interception and capture of a wild redhead - Fred just didn't do early mornings.

He sipped at his cup of strong tea (he didn't do coffee; too rough on the system, and bad for his perfect complexion to boot) and checked the time. According to his information, Gene would be passing this point in another ten or fifteen minutes. He settled in for the short wait, letting his thoughts drift onto the prize he was after.

------

"Aniki…we're not gonna make it if you don't punch it…"

"Shut up, Jim, we'll be fine."

"Sensors indicate a fuel level 16.7 lower than optimal for this plotted course."

"Don't you start either, Gilliam!" Gene yelled at the ever vocal computer system in his beloved ship.

"Why are we taking such a huge detour anyway?" Jim groused, crossing his arms and leveling a glare at the redheaded - _more like air headed_, he thought - captain.

Said airhead only grunted, further furrowing his brow in irritation. He didn't even want to _think _about his reason for going to all this extra trouble, let alone tell anyone else about it. "We'll be home soon enough, quit whining."

Before the young computer genius could retort, Gilliam interrupted. "I am receiving a message from another ship - it seems to be an S.O.S."

"Patch it through," Gene said, sounding bored.

A static-plagued voice message came through the intercom: "This is…currently stranded above Sentin…out of fuel, emergency systems fail--"

By the time it cut out completely, Gene's face was serious. "Gilliam, can you track their position from the signal?"

"Of course. Shall I make a detour?"

"Do it."

"Aniki! We don't have the fuel either! How can we help them when we might not make it home ourselves?"

"Even if we don't make it, if their emergency systems are failing we can still keep them alive on the Outlaw Star," Gene replied. "Dying stuck out in space is no way to go."

"What if that's the way we end up going because of this?" Jim said quietly.

Gene smiled. "Don't worry, Jim; if we do get stranded, this ship's so hard to miss that we'll be spotted light years away by someone else."

"If anyone does pass by…though maybe it is a good thing you had the ship painted the same obnoxious colour as your hair," Jim grumbled, nonetheless somewhat reassured.

"I have a visual of the ship," Gilliam said. "I'm putting it onscreen."

A small ship came into view; it looked to have been through an asteroid belt or two, if the dents and scrapes along its hull were any indication. Gilliam sent out the bridge that would allow the crew of the stranded ship to board; in a matter of minutes, the Outlaw Star had gained a few new shipmates.

"All members of the crew are now aboard; I will now pull out of the ship."

"Have fun with that, Gilliam," Gene said, getting up from his seat. "I'll go greet our guests." He made his way down to the docking chamber, idly wondering if the crew included any space babes and what it would take to convince any to let him dock his ship in their ports.

He opened the chamber door with the press of a button, a greeting on the tip of his tongue when suddenly he found himself smothered in an all-too-familiar embrace.

"Geeeeeene!" an excited and elated Fred sang from his spot pressed firmly against the redhead's chest. "I missed you!"

Gene let out a strangled grunt, too surprised to do much else. "F-Fred…what…how did you…will you get off me!"

Fred pulled back to smile up in Gene's face. "Gene, you've been avoiding me," he said in a chiding tone.

"Of course I've been avoiding you!" Gene struggled to get out of Fred's vice-like grip. "Why else do you think I've flown halfway around Sentinel 3 in the _wrong direction_? And _will you let go of me already_?"

"Not until you tell me why you've been avoiding me," Fred replied, still smiling up at him.

Gene grimaced; Fred's two goons were standing behind the merchant, sunglasses hiding eyes that he just _knew_ were watching his every move. He just wanted to forget it had ever happened, and confirming aloud the reason for his running away would definitely be a few steps backward. But failing to do so would only leave him trapped in Fred's embrace…

"…Keh! Why else would I be avoiding you? You…you k-kissed me the last time we saw each other!"

"I see your memory is still sharp as ever, even if your senses aren't," Fred grinned, shifting his eyes pointedly to a spot behind Gene.

The redhead raised an eyebrow, then turned his head to follow Fred's gaze. He froze upon seeing his entire crew standing behind him, even Suzuka. Aisha was gaping openly at the two men, and Jim's left eyebrow was twitching something fierce as he looked at Gene in horror.

"You…and Fred…?" Jim said faintly.

Gene's mouth worked to form an explanation, but no sound came out. He didn't even notice that Fred was leaning in close…too close. Suddenly he felt two warm lips press themselves to the corner of his own, and the eyes of his crew widened as one.

"You're so cute when you're speechless, Gene," Fred said happily, finally releasing the man. He grabbed something from behind one of his bodyguards and whipped it up to Gene's face - a bouquet of flowers.

"Now you go put these in some water, and we'll get to work on refueling your ship." Fred promptly snapped his fingers for his bodyguards and pushed past the stunned crew of the Outlaw Star, pleased by the bemused look frozen on Gene's face as he stared at the flowers in his gloved hand.

"You really owe me for this one, Gene. Apparently you really _do_ have to get up pretty early in the morning to catch you."


	3. Sanagi

**Author's ****Note** It's me again, sorry for the wait. This is just a little peek into Fred's daily life without his dear Gene, so it's shorter than the first two chapters. Hope you still enjoy it. 

**P.S.** - Thank you all for your lovely reviews! I had no idea there were so many closet Fred/Gene shippers out there. And yes, doesn't Gene just make the unhappiest uke in the world? xD

**If Only I Could Make You Mine**

_Everyone has a dream; a goal, a desire, a wish, a hope. The name doesn't matter, for they are all of the same nature: deemed unattainable by those that lacked the will to reach for their own dream. But persistence is not all that is necessary in achieving that distant goal - though certainly, it doesn't hurt._

_- - -_

_'This won't be easy.'_

That had been Fred's first thought after having decided to pursue Gene. And so far it had proved to be quite true. But Fred never wanted what was easy to obtain; he was a merchant by trade and by mindset. The rarer catches always came at a higher price because they were so limited in number and so highly sought after.

Even so, sometimes it was difficult to remain optimistic about his prospects with Gene Starwind. In spite of the fact that he could list off all of the traits they had in common with each other at the drop of a hat (and in his sleep), there was one glaringly huge obstacle in the way of their coming together: Gene Starwind really, really, _really_ liked women.

Fred hated it. Gene always made it perfectly clear that he thought of Fred as only a friend - a perverted and horny friend at that, not to be taken seriously. He never really saw the looks Fred gave him. Of course he took every opportunity he had to undress the grappler ship captain with his eyes, but only because he couldn't do it with his skillful hands.

But Gene never saw the other looks - the ones that took in the sparks that flared in his eyes when he was excited about a new adventure; the looks that memorized every long, dark eyelash lining those eyes as Fred imagined what it would feel like to have them brush against his cheek. Looks that, to everyone but the one to whom they were directed, shone with something far deeper than lust or infatuation.

Fred had liked Gene from the very beginning, that much was obvious to anyone with enough living cells left to be classified as alive. But he had tried his damnedest not to actually fall for the redhead. He honestly cherished the friendship they had, the history they shared. He had never wanted to put that relationship at risk.

But the day had come a long time ago when he had had to admit to himself that what he felt for Gene was more than just a liking for the man; that he wanted much more than a simple friendship with him. That day he had gone to the bar with Gene, both fearing the other man would figure out how he felt and wishing that he would.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Gene was rather dense about it all. Fred had realized that no, pursuing a relationship with this man would _not_ be easy; nor would it be something that could be done subtly.

A week after Fred had come to terms with his feelings for Gene, he had made his move. Specifically, it had been a nip at the other man's ear during a visit to Fred's office. And the results hadn't been…exactly favorable. 'Almost disastrous' may have been a better way of putting it. Nerves had been shattered, tables had been knocked over, and in a panic Fred had said it had all just been a joke - words that still formed a strained barrier between the two of them, an excuse to fall back on, another thing that Gene would never take seriously.

Fred had messed up, and he had yet to fully forgive himself for the slip of the tongue (both figuratively and literally). But it did serve as a driving force, something that would keep him trying to bag the redhead, even years later.

But that was just the thing - it had been _years_ now, and with little to no progress to speak of. Fred had had his small victories and precious moments here and there, but it was getting to be too little to go on. He was losing patience.

The yearning that had settled within him so long ago had become a permanent fixture, it seemed. Some days, days like this one, he sometimes wondered if it was all worth the trouble. It was on days like these that he felt a tiny niggling doubt about whether he would succeed, if he had made the right choice in giving up the total comfort of their friendship in trying to turn it into something more.

It was days like these that Fred looked for any and all excuses to give Gene a call on the videophone.

Jobs, information on bounties in the area, anything that he could pass along to Gene that would interest the man would do. Because all it took to regain his determination in chasing after the redhead was a few short minutes watching his favourite man and hearing his voice. Just those few minutes could bring a smile back to Fred's face - the sly smile that meant he was plotting how he could make it so that he woke up to that voice every morning.

Sometimes Fred was rather grateful for those days of doubt; the nights following his reaffirmations always gave rise to some very…enjoyable dreams. And his first thought upon waking from such dreams would prove to be just as true as the one he had had after deciding to chase after Gene.

_'They won't be dreams forever.'_


	4. Turning a Blind Eye

**Author's ****Note** Death to writer's block. I think going brain dead from a bad cold helped me get over it though, so it's all good. This chapter went through two versions before I was happy with it, so hopefully it was for the best. It can't all be on Fred's side, after all... 

Also. I forgot with the last two chapters that I wanted to do short intros about each theme and what they have to do with my chapters. (Yeah I stole the idea from Outlaw Star; but I can do it too if I want, dammit!)So if you care to see, the intros have been added - and hopefully I'll remember after this from now on. x.x

**Look Over Here**

_The gift of sight; one of the five basic and essential senses bestowed upon all creatures human, alien, and android alike. While some have the delicate sense taken from them and others are born or created without it, those blessed with it rarely ever truly see what they are meant to. Often it is only after losing such a sense that anyone can really appreciate it. But hope remains for those blinded by what is in front of their eyes in the form of a catalyst, great or small - a perhaps fated event that bypasses the eyes and awakens the part of the mind that can truly **see**._

_- - -_

"…Are you _absolutely sure _about this, Jim?" Gene gave the young computer whiz a dubious glower.

"Of course I am, Aniki. Unlike some people, I actually make sure my tipoffs come from legit sources before running off with hundreds of wong worth of equipment on my back," the lively blond boy said, his tone turning scolding.

Gene only narrowed his eyes further in suspicion. "…You really know how to hold a grudge, you know that?"

Jim gritted his teeth, then let out a _hmph! _and crossed his arms over his chest. "It's not a grudge if you do it _every time_, you idiot!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Gene grunted. "Anyway, what would anything worth more than a round of drinks at the bar be doing lying around way out here in the middle of nowhere? Where _are_ we?"

Jim let out a long-suffering sigh. "I've already told you three times, Aniki; we're not in the middle of nowhere, we're out in this asteroid belt looking for a priceless treasure for our customer."

"Who loses something so priceless in the middle of a freaking asteroid belt! That's all I wanna know!" Gene griped, tapping his fingers impatiently on the controls of the Outlaw Star.

"What do you care, as long the pay is good?" Jim muttered, checking their coordinates with the information provided by the customer.

Gene couldn't think of an answer to that aside from admitting to his own stubborn laziness, and he really didn't feel like giving Jim another win today. So, he changed the subject. "Who is this 'legit source' you insist on bragging about, anyway?"

Whatever answer the redheaded spaceship captain expected out of his little genius, it was most definitely not the monstrously smug and derisive look that crossed his face. Gene could only gawp openly, utterly baffled at the reaction. "You should know better than me, Aniki," the boy said smoothly. "I'd have thought communication would be more open between you and your _boyfriend_."

Gene blinked bemusedly for a second before his mind made the connection back to Fred Luo. Quite suddenly Jim was sporting a large and painful lump on his head, while Gene huffed in his captain's seat. Even Melfina, who had been a little distant lately, let out a giggle.

In spite of the new hurt, Jim was quite undeterred. "I don't know why you take your frustrations out on me, Aniki. You're not even in a position to deny there's something going on between you and Fred."

"There ISN'T anything going on!" Gene yelled. "And if there is, it's all on that guy's side."

"Yeah, right," Jim scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I _saw_ you two kissing; we all did."

"That was all him!" Gene insisted, banging his fist on the control panel in front of him. "I never wanted anything like that, and I definitely never asked for flowers from him either!"

"Oh…? I'd forgotten about the flowers. Strange that you remember though, Aniki."

"Shut up! Let's hurry up and get this stupid job over with - and keep it up if you feel like getting tossed into deep space and floating back home!"

"Yeah, yeah…"

------

"…I still don't see why both of us need to be here."

"Really, Gene…the customer feels more comfortable with me here, and she wants to thank you personally for finding her precious family heirloom."

"She's not even a babe, Fred! I just want to get this over with already. What if I miss some really big job offer while I'm wasting time here with that old hag?"

"Do it for me?"

Gene spluttered, thrown off-guard by the sudden change of pace in his argument with the dark-haired merchant. "Wha--! W-why would I do anything for you!" he hissed, glancing around fervently to make sure no one was within earshot.

"Because if you don't, she's not going to feel comfortable giving you any of her money," Fred replied, not missing a beat.

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean she's very careful with her money. It took many years to develop the trust she places in the Luo family now."

"You mean she's a cheap old bitch."

"Be that as it may, you don't have much choice in the matter now, do you?" Fred pointed out with a smile.

"This is ridiculous!" Gene cried, forgetting all about keeping their conversation low-key. "This is blackmail! Is this why you sent Jim home ahead of me, you bastard? You put me in this position! I don't have to dance to whatever beat you and that hag decide to--!"

He was suddenly silenced mid-tirade by Fred's warm lips clamped over his own. He was too surprised to do more than widen his eyes as they met the smoldering black ones of the other man. Jim's words flashed through Gene's mind, and he felt the blood rushing to his face.

Fred pulled away and turned around, collecting a few papers from the desk behind him. "As much as I regret giving you any further hardships, I would appreciate you keeping your shouting to a minimal level for the sake of my customers, Gene."

Gene was thrown off by the distant tone in Fred's voice, borderline disappointed by finding it there - not that he would ever admit that to anyone, least of all himself. But it had never been there before, not even after those old 'jokes' of Fred's, back before he had crossed the line into kisses. It was more effective at making the pilot nervous than any advance the other man could make. Needless to say, it was a quiet Gene that finally met with the customer alongside Fred.

Throughout the polite conversation over tea that followed, Gene found himself trying to catch the merchant's gaze several times. It was only after the third attempt that he realized what he was doing, even if he couldn't see why. Perhaps it was because it was the first time he could recall Fred not doing the same, or perhaps he was trying to indirectly test the waters to see if the dark-haired man was angry with him.

Either way, Gene could only wonder why he found himself remembering the way those charcoal eyes had seemed to burn into his - and why he was trying to get them to do it again.


	5. Everything Nice

**Author's Note:** Oof. Writing and I have not been getting along so well for the past three weeks. Luckily I managed to get this one out, even though I swear the world conspired against me at every opportunity. Maybe that's why I'm making more people gang up on Gene. This, like the theme indicates, is almost pure sugar. Hope you enjoy.

**Candy**

_Innocence is often associated with the carefree, the lighthearted, and the sweet. A sweet tooth is one of the most recognized signs of a retained child-like innocence, though the fact that anybody can have one for just about any reason under the stars has made this point all but moot._

_------_

It was a pleasant day on Sentinel 3, with clear skies and a light breeze. The occasional bird flitted chirpily through the air, far off in the distance and well away from the spaceship launch yard, in spite of the fact that it had been rather slow and quiet there for the past few days. All was peaceful - until the air was rent by a sudden indignant cry.

"What do you mean I have to go pick it up myself!"

"What part of _'You have to go pick it up yourself' _do you not understand, Aniki?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that whole part about Fred having a deal with the _delivery guys _who take care of that shit?"

Jim, who was currently welding a part of the hull of the Outlaw Star back together, didn't bother to devote his attention to its irate captain. "Fred called while you were sleeping off your hangover. He said the delivery guys have some sort of big deal going down and have a limited number of people to handle Fred's deliveries, so they're only handling the top priorities right now. Since we're local, getting the part we need delivered isn't a priority."

"Tch!" Gene crossed his arms and glared at nothing in particular, since Jim wasn't paying attention to him. "It's still a hassle for _me_."

"And what have you been doing all day that's so important?" Jim drawled, finishing the welding and finally turning around to face Gene, goggles still in place over his eyes.

"Like I need to answer to you," Gene retorted, looking away.

"Actually," the lone pink version of Gilliam's robots piped up from his place beside Jim, "I believe I have records showing that Gene was asleep for the better part of the day, until approximately--"

"Shut up, you!" Gene yelled, chucking a nearby wrench in the robot's direction.

"Will you just get going?" Jim said, putting his hands on his hips in irritation. "We have to get the ship fixed as soon as possible before our parking debt gets out of control."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Gene grumbled, making his way towards the exit. "If it'll get you off my back then I'll go. But I'm taking your car!" And with that, he took off running.

"What? Hey, no--!" Jim tried to protest, looking horrified; but Gene was already well out of earshot - not that he would have heeded anything the boy could have said. Jim heaved a sigh and sank into a crouch to begin gathering up his tools, grumbling.

"You owe me for this one, Fred…"

------

Gene strode into Fred's office, his mood considerably improved after his reckless drive along the rampant highways. An appealing smirk graced his face, and he made his way up to Fred's rather cluttered desk.

Fred looked up at the intrusion, his face brightening when his eyes locked onto Gene. "You're looking particularly smug today, Gene," he remarked.

"Well a little revenge can improve anyone's mood," the redhead replied, flopping easily into the chair across from Fred. "I hear I'm my own delivery man today."

"Ah, yes," Fred said, shuffling through the many papers that littered his desk. "The spare coil you needed arrived this morning. I'm positively _inundated_ with backlogged deliveries and delay requests. Honestly, I wish my delivery company would give me a little more than a few hours' warning before sending all their people gallivanting off around the galaxy…"

"Maybe if you actually went with a legitimate company and not the looters you've got now, things would be different." Gene crossed his arms over his chest lazily, giving a sage nod as though he were an expert on the subject.

"Hey, they are perfectly capable and honest workers, I'll have you know," Fred replied, frowning slightly as he struggled to find Gene's paperwork. "Just because you can't keep track of your own shipments doesn't mean they stole any of your goods."

"I keep track of everything just fine! Just because _you_ don't want to own up to how you get hold of your rarer items--"

A sudden clatter silenced their argumentative yet comfortable chatter, and they turned as one to find the source of the noise. Apparently during Fred's mad paper shuffling, he had knocked over a fat, gold-colored tin decorated with black, swirling patterns. Its lid had come off, spilling some of its contents on the floor surrounding it. A dozen or so golden-wrapped cubes glittered up invitingly at both men, and Gene blinked curiously down at them.

"What are those?" he asked, looking back over at the man across from him.

"Oh, those are a sample of an imperial confection from one of the nations on New Kaizon. They're made for the royal family, and the daughter of the Emperor has a taste for them…don't know why, they don't really catch my fancy…" Fred replied absently, going back to his paper search.

Gene raised an eyebrow and looked from the candies on the floor and back to Fred. "And what are you doing with something made specifically for a royal family?"

"They were a gift," Fred said, opening a drawer in his desk and rifling through it. "I helped the Emperor out of a tight spot a while back. He's been buying from the Luo family ever since. And now _why_ would someone who caters to the galactic royalty employ 'looters' to make my important deliveries? Aha! Here it is!" Fred waved the elusive paper for Gene to see, but the scarred man's attention was back on the candies. "Gene?"

"Nn," he grunted in reply.

Fred looked utterly bewildered at his companion's behavior, and blinked a few times in silence before his brow creased in apparent worry. "Gene, are you alright?"

Gene gave a start and snapped his eyes back to Fred, the faintest of blushes colouring his cheeks. "Uh…yeah, sorry. I need to fill that out?"

"Yes, it's the standard form…" Fred said. He glanced at the glittering wrapped candies on the floor for a moment before comprehension bloomed across his face. "Ah, Gene! You never told me you had a sweet tooth!"

"I do not," Gene glared, crossing his arms again and pointedly turning his nose up at the confections strewn about the floor.

"Oh, go on," Fred replied with a grin, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't really like them anyway, you can have them if you like."

"Who said anything about wanting them?" Gene huffed.

Fred laughed and got up from his chair, moving around the corner of the desk to the fallen sweets. He plucked one up and stood beside Gene, then took hold of his hand and placed the candy in the middle of his palm. "Go ahead," the merchant said with quiet amusement. "Try one."

Gene appeared to deliberate for half a minute, then finally moved to unwrap the royal candy. Unnerved by Fred's unwavering smile, he turned away and popped it into his mouth quickly. He quickly forgot about the other man, however, when the flavour hit him full force.

At first it was a sweet, fruity flavour, innocent enough. It was a soft, chewy texture, and he worked it around his mouth slowly, enjoying the feel of it on his tongue. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, a layer of spice worked its way to the surface. Gene's eyes widened a bit at the strange combination; it was definitely different to him, but he found it oddly enjoyable. On a whim he decided to go for the gold and bit straight through the easily yielding sweet, for which he was rewarded with what he had to assume was the dried form of the fruit that had flavoured the first layer. He tried in vain to identify the fruit, finally giving up and swallowing the remnants.

"I take it you approve?" Fred's voice snapped Gene back to the present.

The redhead nodded slowly, eyeing the rest of the golden wrappers on the floor. Wordlessly, Fred picked up a second one and handed it over. Gene unwrapped it slowly, taking his time to get a look at what he was eating. It was a deep red, speckled here and there with flecks of gold, and in the shape of a perfect cube. He opened his mouth to make quick work of this second candy, not noticing that Fred had moved.

A few moments later, after Gene had softened the chew nicely in his mouth, leisurely lips pressed to his own preoccupied ones. He had been so intent on his mysterious confection that he hadn't even seen Fred get so close to him, and his lips opened in surprise before he could stop them.

Fred took the opportunity with lightening speed, slipping his tongue past sugar-coated lips. He began a slow swirl around Gene's mouth until he found the candy resting appetizingly upon the redhead's tongue, stealing tastes of both.

Slowly, Fred retreated from the sweet and spiced confines of Gene's mouth, though he refused to take any steps back from the man in his chair. He stared at Gene heatedly, until the redhead remembered to swallow the rest of his candy.

"Watching you enjoy it so much made me want to give it a second chance," Fred purred. "I think I prefer it out of your mouth than out of the wrapper, though."

Gene stared wide-eyed back at the black-haired man for a moment before coming to his senses. He jumped out of the chair, Fred moving smoothly to the side to let him up. After putting some distance between them, Gene began looking everywhere except the other man. "Uh…uh…the, uh…paperwork…" he trailed off lamely.

Fred gave up trying to capture Gene's eyes again, instead turning around and bending down to collect the remaining candies back into their tin. "Don't worry about that, it's only a small part. I've got all your information anyway, I can fill it out myself after you sign it."

Gene stalked over to the desk, nearly ripping the pen off the chain that connected it to the wooden surface. He made a quick scribble that didn't remotely resemble his signature, then began to head towards the door.

"One moment, Gene," Fred said in that voice that was too cheerful to be disobeyed. Gene stopped, but didn't turn around. Fred slowly walked over to him, coming to a deliberate stop in front of the unnerved starship captain.

"You forgot your candy," Fred said brightly, smiling and holding out the tin.

Gene stared at the golden box for a minute before reaching out a hand to snatch it from those of the merchant, then walked around him and out the door. Fred braced for the inevitable slam and subsequent sigh of his own to follow, but they never came. Just as he was wondering what had happened, Gene's gruff voice came quietly from the doorway.

"….Thanks."

_Slam!_

Fred's mind absently registered the quick retreat of Gene's footsteps, but he remained still, eyes widened. Had Gene just…?

------

"How is he?"

"I don't know what you did to him, Fred, but he's locked himself away all evening. He didn't even come out for dinner!"

"Oh, my; I guess it's a good thing I didn't send him home empty-handed."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't worry, he's not going hungry quite yet."

"I take it you got what you wanted, then?"

"And infinitely more, James. It went so much better than I could have ever planned."

"You really owe me for this, Fred. He took my car. My _car_!"

"Don't worry your pretty little head, now. Actually, that was what I wanted to call you about. How do you feel about doubling your rates?"

"….What?"

"Your rates. For the results I'm getting, I'm not rewarding you nearly enough."

"Wha…w-well _yeah_, that sounds great! What do I have to do?"

"We'll work that out later. For now, consider this a bonus. Ah, I'm afraid I have to get going, James. Do keep an eye on Gene for me, won't you?"

"Of course! Sure thing! Call me whenever you want with your next idea!"

"Of course. Take care."

_-click-_

Fred gazed around his office, finally free of the mess of paperwork that had bogged him down all day and into the night. He was about to turn out the lights and lock up when a glimmer of gold caught his eye, drawing his gaze to the foot of his desk.

He made his way over, then bent down to pick up the candy he must have missed when he gave the tin to Gene. He had never really had much of a sweet tooth himself, and finding out from Jim the other day that Gene did had been a good stroke of luck indeed.

He fingered the delicate wrapping before pocketing the golden cube, continuing on his way out for the night, content in the notion of having an excuse to go visit Gene tomorrow.


	6. Measure of a Man

**Author's Note: **It's been a while, hasn't it? So very, very...very sorry. What with work, preparing costumes for Otakon (Three costumes. THREE! WHAT WAS I THINKING!), trying to write two other stories at the same time, and more recently my being accepted to culinary school (financial planning and whatnot; it takes a while), not to mention a bit of a lack in inspiration, I FINALLY return with this. I'd just like to say how much all of your reviews meant to me, and pushed me to keep up my creativity in the design of this love epic. I hope I don't disappoint.

Extra thanks go to Kei, for submitting what is officially the Best Review Ever. And dedicated to Cheri-sama, because she liked this chapter a lot and because I can.

------

**KHz**

_Sound – what humans perceive to be sound – is nothing more than vibrations traveling through the atmosphere. Vibrations that pound themselves out for our auditory enjoyment or suffering, using the natural drum in the inner ear. A drum, perhaps the most primal instrument known to man, perhaps built into our bodies to help keep the world – as we perceive it – in time with our natural beat._

------

"Dammit, Jim, I wanted to get back up in space sometime _before_ I turn grey."

"We can't fly the ship out of here until we pass the dock inspection, Aniki. I think you should know that after all this time…"

"But we've been doing repairs all week! We've been spending more time in port than in space for the last month, and it's driving me insane! What the hell's the holdup with this tin can, anyway?

"I resent that remark. I'll have you know I am built of only the finest quality–"

"Can it, Gilliam, or I'll dump you in the scrap yard. Well, Jim?"

The snarky boy genius let out a long-suffering sigh. "That's just it – I haven't been able to figure out what's wrong yet."

"…Huh? What the hell, why not? You've got Mel and Gilliam here to check every corner of this ship, inside and out!"

"I know, but something's interfering with Gilliam's scanners, and Mel only controls the navigation system. I've tried everything, Aniki, but the only option we've got left is to go in manually and dig through Gilliam's programming."

Gene blinked, then gazed up at the gleaming red hull of the ship towering above it all. "Gilliam's programming, huh?"

"Oh no, I don't like that look he's giving me," one of the Gilliam bots fretted, its thin metal arms coming up and clinking against its face in robotic horror.

"Hey, I've been computerized before," Gene said, eyes gleaming ominously. "Actually, I've been thinking I'd like to do it again."

"Jim, don't let him get into my programming!" Gilliam pleaded, hurrying to the boy's side.

"Should you be saying something like that about your captain?" Gene glared.

"I don't think we need to make it that complicated, Aniki," Jim said flatly. "We don't need you to put your mind into the computer's mainframe just to find out what's blocking the scanners."

"Tch. You're no fun, as usual," Gene grumbled, crossing his arms and all but pouting. "Fine, what _do _you need to do then?"

"Just one thing," Jim replied, suddenly beaming. He bent down to rummage through the large box of tools and repair equipment that rested beside him, tossing out the ones in his way as he went. When he finally resurfaced with a triumphant "Ha!" it was with a somewhat dusty and crude black box.

"…What is it?" Gene had to ask after staring at the object blankly for a moment.

"This," Jim gestured proudly at the box, "is a genuine twenty-first century audio signal processor. Specifically this model's from the turn of the century, just after the year 2000, from what I gather. I restored it myself! Can you believe someone was stupid enough to throw something like this away? I was really lucky to– HEY!"

Gene interrupted Jim's rambling, which he had long since tuned out, by swiping the box out of the boy's hands and proceeding to give it a rough shake.

"ANIKI! Don't do that, you'll break it! Give it back!" Jim yelled, snatching his precious antique back from the nosy redhead.

Gene relented with an exasperated sigh. "I don't understand your interest in these old fossils. Things like Caster shells I get, and even those old cars you endlessly lust after, 'cause at least those are useful. What the hell can that piece of ancient history _possibly_ do that Gilliam and Melfina can't?"

Jim patted the machine delicately, almost as though he were reassuring it. "It's not a concept all that different from the Caster shells, you know. They've both got an old magic to them."

"…There is no way that giant doorstop is capable of containing and releasing magic."

Jim only rolled his eyes. "Not everything you hear has to be taken literally, honestly. I mean there's just something the technology from the past has that the current stuff can't touch. Back then, most machines were built with just one main function in mind, not like how everything can do just about everything these days. You would have a job to do, and you could say 'This is the machine for the job, and nothing else will do.'"

Jim's eyes had softened as he spoke, and Gene watched him owlishly. "It's the simplicity, Aniki. They had one purpose, and they served that one purpose until they broke down smoking. It just seems…purer to me, somehow."

Gene was at a loss as to how to respond to the boy's speech. Jim wasn't the kind of person to offer up his deeper feelings on a subject so easily, and the unusual behavior tightened the nerves under his skin as he watched the blond boy tinker with the knobs on the processor.

Finally he coughed lightly into his hand, clearing his throat. "So uh…what does it do, anyway? That audio thing."

"It measures kilohertz – sound wavelengths. You can set this model to measure anywhere between zero and ten thousand kilohertz per second, which is good because whatever's messing up Gilliam's scanners has to be working under low frequencies."

"My program is more than capable of detecting frequencies far lower than any human or archaic machinery can pick up," Gilliam said, sounding as petulant as a programmed personality possibly can.

"Not when they're actually interfering with the sensors that detect them," Jim said flatly, switching the machine on with a loud _click!_

It didn't make any sound at first; the blank screen slowly came alive with a green light grid, displaying a motionless and likewise bright green but much thicker line.

"…Is it on?" Gene asked.

"Of course it's on," Jim said testily. "I have to get it into position before I can get it going–"

"What's with talk of positions this early in the morning? Really, Gene, if you aren't careful you'll corrupt the boy."

The two preoccupied crew members fell silent and looked up as one to see Fred Luo, paused a distance away from them and looking oddly tired. But almost before Gene had time to take in the exhaustion rimming Fred's eyes, the merchant's usual smile crawled back into place, chasing away the ghosts of fatigue and forcing his comment to finally sink in.

"Hey! I am not corrupt. You're the one always molesting people anyway, I don't need to hear that from you," Gene grumbled.

Fred hummed amusedly and turned to a flustered Jim, giving him a pat on the arm. "Careful what you let this man teach you, James, or you might just turn out like he did."

Jim scoffed. "I'm not that stupid," he said, turning away from the both of them and going back to fiddling with the settings on the processor.

"And now you two are ganging up on me," Gene whined, missing the quick secret glance shared by the boy genius and the smitten merchant. "What are you doing here, Fred? If you just wanted to make fun of me you could've done that over the phone like usual. And what, no goons with you today?"

"They're in the car," Fred replied, gesturing over his shoulder. Gene followed the man's finger and recoiled at the twin gazes directed his way, which, though they were covered by sunglasses, still managed to burn holes wherever they aimed.

"Yeesh," Gene almost shivered. "Is it me, or do they seem especially pissed off today?"

"They're just worried." Fred turned around and offered the two in the car a reassuring smile, which seemed to placate them somewhat. "And I came to oversee one of your deliveries."

Gene blinked. "Deliveries? But they came yesterday. And no one's complained that we were missing anything, even if they do complain about everything else…"

The dark haired man in front of him got a curious look on his face then; Gene thought it might be a cross between hesitant and scheming, if such a combination were possible.

"Hey, I got it working!" Jim's sudden cry interrupted them. "It took a while to get it to work, but the low frequency setting is still kicking!"

"That's great, Jim," Gene said, suddenly glad for the distraction. "So how long till we know what's wrong with Gilliam?"

"There isn't anything wrong with me at all, thank you," Gilliam said snippily. "The _problem_ is whatever happens to be interfering with my unparalleled and superbly advanced programming."

"When did you get such a big ego?" Gene glared at the wide-eyed robot near Jim's feet. "And stop listening in other people's conversations!"

"Like captain like starship; and will both of you keep quiet? You're throwing off my readings!" Jim huffed, hovering over his precious machinery. He discreetly pulled his ever-present goggles down over his eyes – not because the job posed any danger to them, but because he knew what was coming, and that his eyes would give that fact away to the unsuspecting redhead.

Gene huffed and crossed his arms across his chest, but remained quiet nonetheless. For a while.

"…What delivery?" he murmured to Fred, glancing at him out of the corner of one suspicious eye.

"Hm? Oh," Fred replied, taking his curious gaze off of Jim's handiwork to look back at Gene. He stared at the object of his affection for a moment; just before Gene could begin to fidget under the look, Fred flashed him a spectacular smile and said simply: "Me."

Unnoticed by all involved, Jim suddenly fumbled with the machine and began working at an almost frantic pace, as Gene eloquently voiced his confusion:

"…Huh?"

"Me!" Fred repeated, moving forward to slip an arm around Gene's broad shoulders. "I came to deliver myself to you, Gene." He breathed the man's name into his ear, which slowly began to redden.

"What are you talking about?" Gene said gruffly, trying to wriggle out of Fred's grip.

Fred gave a sigh and pulled Gene impossibly flush against his side. "You see, Gene, it's like this. You are one of my largest investments – your ship is one of my largest investments." He unconsciously began rubbing his ear as he continued, the usual nervous habit. "I don't know of its origins, but I can tell it's something unlike anything else in the galaxy. The fact that it's a grappler ship only bumps you higher up that list of mine."

"What are you getting at?" Gene asked, brows lowered in suspicion. As he gave another half-hearted shove at the merchant's stubborn arm, Jim suddenly stumbled over one of the bulkier objects he had thrown out of the toolbox in his search for the audio signal processor. His arms waved wildly about in his simultaneous attempt to keep his balance and to protect his precious machine – and the battle with gravity suddenly came to a crashing end as the processor, aimed in Gene's direction, picked up an interesting wavelength.

"Please take more care with yourself, James," Fred admonished.

"R-right," Jim said, quickly righting himself and patting off the fine white dust that covered the ground of the spaceship parking lot. "I mean, yeah, don't worry about me!" He offered an embarrassed grin until the two men took their attention away from him once again, then quietly set about tracking this new wavelength.

"So?" Gene said to Fred. "What are you getting at with all this 'investment' talk?"

"Well, simply put…" Fred began, lifting a forefinger to illustrate his serious point, "You are a liability and an insurance _nightmare_. I am not one to entrust my money to other people, so in lieu of sending an agent along with you to keep you in check, I have taken it upon myself to stop you from pulling any gratuitously reckless stunts that will up my insurance rates."

"I…hey! I'm not any more reckless than the goons that decide to battle with me! And you know I'm good for the money! Why else would you, of all people, keep letting me come back to add to all my debts?"

"Hmm, I wonder…" Fred gently brushed the tips of his fingers underneath Gene's smooth chin, daring the ship captain to break eye contact.

"_I knew it_," Jim whispered to himself, staring at the simple graph displayed on the processor. The steadily increasing number of peaks hardly seemed to surprise the young boy.

"Knew what, Jim?" the affronted Gilliam bot from earlier said from over the boy's shoulder, nearly startling him out of his goggles.

"Shh! Keep your voice down, Gilliam!" Jim hissed, glancing up quickly to be sure the others hadn't heard. Once satisfied, he breathed a sigh of relief. "You mean you don't know what's going on? Really, there's a lot that you miss being stuck on board all the time."

"Gene won't let me come outside."

"And for good reason," Jim muttered sardonically.

"So what is it that I seem to be missing? Does it have anything to do with whatever is interfering with my scanners?"

"…What? No! This has nothing to do with your scanners. Did you always have such a one-track mind? Uh, program?"

"Actually my program allows me to focus on upwards of one thousand simultaneous tasks at any given time, should the need arise."

"That's great, Gilliam, really. But again, you're getting way off the point."

"Well if you aren't working on my scanners, what are you doing with that audio signal processor?"

"Well, why don't you take a look?"

The little Gilliam bot maneuvered itself to get a clearer view of the graphed screen. "It appears to be a steady wavelength – but its speed is continuously increasing."

"Exactly," Jim said, smirking. Suddenly the speed of the wavelength jumped to almost double what it had been; the blond boy looked up at the scene before him, and nearly laughed out loud.

Fred had managed to tease Gene into a corner made by stacks of delivery crates, and was now trapped between the merchant's body and cold, industrial steel. Jim couldn't hear what Fred was whispering into the ear of his redheaded friend, but if the sound pattern being graphed on the small screen was any indication, it had to be good.

"What is it measuring, exactly?" Gilliam asked, looking from the two men to the audio processor.

In the distance, Fred brushed his lips almost imperceptibly against the tip of Gene's thoroughly red ear.

"Aniki's heartbeat," was all Jim had the breath to reply.


	7. Liability

**Author's Note:** Ohisashiburi da na. Yeeeergh, there have been so many obstacles to my writing of late. Aside from the usual time constraints and writer's block, several viruses infected my computer and totally killed it for about a month. Luckily, I left notes on what I was going to do with this chapter, so I wasn't completely at a loss when I started writing again.

Once again, the newest chapter is the longest I've written so far...makes me wonder if I need to learn to shut up. Anyway, onto the actual notes: First, this takes place the night before the last chapter, so if it's been so long that you don't remember where the story left off, I don't blame you if you need to go back and look. Second, those of you who have read the yaoi manga Antique Bakery (good read - and scratch and sniff covers to boot!) will recognize Chikage in one of Fred's loyal bodyguards. Sorry, it just seemed to fit. And last, be forewarned of much parentheses abuse - I was toying around with the "space between" part of this theme, and it kind of turned into "reading between the lines".

This chapter's dedicated to all you crazy people who kept reviewing even this long after my last update, because you make me happy and guilty all at the same time. And to Chikage, who really is adorable.

**Disclaimer:** Still tired of doing these. Sigh. Not mine, not mine at all. Piss off, lawyers.

------

**The Space Between Dream and Reality**

_A boy has the right to dream. It is said that anything is possible in dreams, and that the limitations of the real world are what keeps them from coming true. But what of the heartbeat that lies between the world of dreams and the world of limitations? A meeting of the two worlds, however brief, is sometimes all that is needed to bridge the gap between them. A boy has the right to dream – but a man has the right to make them a reality._

_**The previous night…**_

Fred stared at the glowing city lights below his perch on the balcony. The deep black of the night sky never reached the face of the planet, chased away by the haze of luminescence of thousands – perhaps hundreds of thousands – of the flashing, flickering, glaring lights littering the surface of Sentinel 3. Up on the balcony outside of Fred's bedroom, the bustling noise of nightlife faded into the background, and the stark midnight breeze rose above everything to caress his face.

Fred felt like crap.

His eyes had long since glazed themselves over to the glittering sights below him, and he remained slumped over the guardrail of the balcony in a miserable stupor. He was so preoccupied with ignoring the world around him that he didn't notice that he was no longer alone – that is, until a soft touch to his shoulder brought him down from space with a jolt.

Startled, he whipped his head around to get a look at the intruders. Black cloth and broad shoulders filled his vision, and he turned back to view of the city with a groan. "What are you two doing here? And don't you ever wear anything besides those suits?"

His two bodyguards, apparently loyal to a fault (and a criminal charge for breaking and entering), exchanged glances veiled by their ever-present sunglasses.

"Master Luo," began the one on the left, the taller of the two. "You don't seem to be your usual energetic self these days."

"And we also wear pajamas at night, but we deemed them to be inappropriate at this time," said the one on the right, the shorter.

"Right, pajamas…" Fred replied absently. Suddenly, he came to himself and craned his neck around to glance at them once again. "You were worried about me?"

Simultaneous nods.

Fred's brows scrunched as he gave them a weak smile. "That's sweet of you, boys, but you didn't have to go to all the trouble and criminal activity just to check on me. I supplied you with private phones, did I not?"

"Yes, you did, Master Luo," the first spoke again. "But we were afraid you might have been asleep."

"We didn't want to take the chance of waking you up," added the second.

Fred grunted softly. "I wouldn't have minded if you had…" he muttered.

Though they said nothing, Fred somehow discerned that the two hulking figures before him were restraining themselves from erupting in righteous anger; they definitely had an idea of what was wrong – or rather, who was causing their young master to lose sleep, that much was clear.

He gave them a serious look. "You know if you do anything to him you'll be cruising the classifieds in no time flat." It wasn't a question, and the two before him knew it. They grudgingly nodded their assent.

Fred held their stares for a moment longer, but then turned back to the cityscape with an unrestrained sigh. He folded his arms on the smooth guardrail and rested his head upon them; all three dropped off into silence.

Fred was thinking, as he had been doing ever since he had awoken abruptly from a rather unpleasant dream – thinking about Gene. Or, more specifically, the faraway future he had hoped to share with Gene.

The dream had started off normally enough: he had had Gene cornered and partially undressed, and things were progressing nicely. But just when it had really begun heating up, the redhead had suddenly stopped reacting and fallen still. Then, to Fred's horror, the man beneath him simply faded away before his eyes.

It wasn't a terribly extraordinary dream, but Fred found it to be one of the worst nightmares he had ever dreamt.

Out there on that balcony, Fred had come to a realization – that the mere thought of losing that brazen, crass, overly confident and inescapably vocal outlaw was enough to make his heart seize in fear. In all actuality, it hadn't taken him longer than a minute to come to that realization. What he had been losing sleep over was the unanswerable question that still plagued his mind, even at this very minute: How had he fallen so deeply in love with a person who still couldn't even begin to reciprocate those feelings?

But maybe that wasn't an entirely true sentiment… After convincing young Jim that helping him to close the gap between himself and his beloved was a worthwhile venture, creating situations beneficial to the progression of their relationship became easier by far. But though Fred enjoyed getting to play out whatever scheme for romance he could come up with, and though Jim assured him that they were making positive strides, Fred couldn't help the feeling of emptiness and of the strain of wasted effort that settled in the back of his mind and made his heart heavy.

Even if he _had_ made progress with Gene, this current method of cat-and-mouse could only take them so far together, and not anywhere near the reaches that Fred desired. The everyday connections to Gene he usually took comfort in had, of late, only left him needing more than they could offer. Mooning over the occasional, accidental brush of hands; discovering that they had yet another trivial trait in common; most of all, those fervent, heated dreams of his that caused him to awaken to general distress (and more often than not a trip to the linen closet). These were all small pieces of his relationship with Gene that he could keep locked in his memory, to be taken out and admired when he was feeling low.

But now… Well, now they were getting more and more to be those things that brought him down.

How many times had he told, convinced, and reassured himself that he was okay with the way things were with Gene? That limiting the extent of their bond to that of 'just friends', and quietly (and sometimes blatantly) admiring from afar (and sometimes at quite a short distance) would be enough?

Somewhere in the back of his mind (and the front of his pants) he always knew that it would never be enough – not by a long shot. But there had always been the risk of going too far over the line with Gene, of making too heavy an advance or some other mistake that would cost him their friendship. And that had never been a risk worth taking. Even a little bit of Gene was better than none at all.

At least, it hadn't been a risk worth taking until now.

As good a schemer as Fred was, he had not foreseen that getting closer to Gene would adversely affect anyone other than the cocky redhead…well, maybe his shipmates; but certainly not _himself_. But the teasing touches and surprise kisses hadn't just gotten under _Gene's_ skin – finally allowing himself to take such liberties with the man had lit a fire in Fred, one that had grown to blaze through his very blood so hot that at times he felt like clawing it out from under his skin.

He had always made it a point to tell Gene that he drove him crazy; he just had never had any idea how close to going over the edge that man would unintentionally push him.

He was convinced that it was his own fault, really. He had given in, had crossed that hated line between 'just friends' and 'more than friends' enough times that he had began hoping for that which had always seemed hopeless. He had taken the first breaching step, the one which caused the desperate dreams of his lonely nights to begin to bleed into the very real light of day. And now that it had started, there was no going back, for his heart nor his sanity. And now that they had reached this desolate stagnation, he could only come to one conclusion:

It was now all or nothing.

They could never go back to the comfortable friendship that had kept them together through their younger days. Things could not be allowed to stay as maddeningly inconclusive as they currently stood, with the both of them circling each other nervously, desperate to counter whatever step the other might take. That only left one other option – to leave all qualms, doubts, and fears in the dust, and reach for the dream that no longer seemed so impossible.

If things went badly, it would all end. Fred didn't kid himself that he'd be able to get over it, no matter how much time would pass – he had only ever loved one man. Well, in the metaphysical sense, anyway. That would never change, even if he might indulge in the occasional fling or one night stand after things ended with Gene.

If things went well… Well, what more could he ever ask for?

Fred issued a faint, but somewhat pleased, grunt at the thought. His two bodyguards, quite forgotten for the last fifteen minutes or so, snapped themselves back to attention at the small sign of life from their master.

"Sir? Master Luo, are you alright?"

A half smile crept along Fred's lips. Still gazing out at Sentinel 3's shining nightlife, he spoke in a voice much more suited to him than his previously unaffected tone. "I'll be quite alright, boys. Thank you both for worrying about me, though…for always worrying about me. But you know, you won't have to do that for very much longer. I've come to a decision."

"Master Luo…?" They prompted him again when Fred fell silent.

He finally turned completely around to face them, rewarding them both with his first honest smile in days. "I am going to be with Gene. From this day on, and always – until he ultimately and thoroughly rejects me, or ultimately and thoroughly accepts me, come hell or high space pirates."

The jaws of both of the stern men before him dropped, then struggled to begin forming words.

"I see I've left you speechless," Fred began, spurring himself on to explain before they could gather their wits enough to protest. "Please, before you start, I know neither of you think he's any good for me, and that you never say anything about it because…well, because you don't want to cause me pain by doing so. I appreciate all of that, I really do. But now, I want you to understand that I need to do this – for myself.

"If things stay the way they are…." Here the proud, sometimes haughty and certainly steadfast merchant had to lower his head against the sudden sinking feeling that came with the unfinished thought. "Things can't stay the way they are," he finished firmly.

His announcement was met with even more silence, and all three simply stared at each other for a few moments. Then, quite suddenly, the slightly shorter of the two bodyguards bit his lip, released what could only be described as a somewhat restrained whimper, then proceeded to start unabashedly bawling.

Fred stood dumbstruck, gaping at his utterly discomposed underling. Then the taller of the two in black rested a comforting but firm hand on the shoulder heaving with sobs, and Fred's mouth hung open.

"Ah–!" the blindsided merchant started, working to get a hold of his senses. "Ah, um…a-are you alright?" True concern coloured his question, which was probably the only thing that forced the bawling bodyguard to pull himself together enough to respond.

"M-Master Luo!" he wailed, brandishing a clenched fist and fighting back distressed hiccups. "H-how can you think (hic)… We've both been so (hic) worried about you, and to come here and find you perched on the edge of your b-balcony…!" He took a deep breath and scrubbed away at the trails of tears coursing down his face and sniffed somewhat forlornly. "We – we thought the worst was about to happen. Even if we c-can't stand to watch you waste away with your unrequited love… Even if we don't think that…that _man_ is good enough for you, how can you think that we wouldn't support you in whatever choices you make!"

The silent pillar of strength (and possibly marble) beside him pulled out a prudently pressed handkerchief and handed it over. While the distraught bodyguard noisily blew his nose and otherwise violated the pure white cloth, Fred slowly came to grips with the depths of his subjects' love and loyalty for their master; he suddenly felt very silly.

"I'm sorry for making you worry all the time and causing you both such grief," he said quite sincerely, head lowered just a little in shame. He slowly lifted his gaze, though, and gave them an embarrassed smile. "I'm starting to think you two are too good for me as well."

Both bodyguards suddenly became identically impassioned, adopting the same harried and affronted posture and speaking as one. "Never! We aren't too good for you, and neither is that red-headed insurance liability!"

Fred gawked at them both for a beat, then suddenly let out a tinkling laugh. "Insurance liability! I've never thought about it that way before, but it's so true… Oh, I can't _stand_ it…" He chuckled again, closed the short distance between himself and his guards, and laid a hand on each one's shoulder. "Honestly, you two give me a more difficult time about Gene than my own father. But I am happy for your support, whatever degree of reluctance it may have, because you should know that I plan to go to him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!"

"But M-Master Luo–!"

Fred held up his hands for quiet. "I know you can't understand why I love Gene, but the fact is that I do. That won't change, so we all need to just get used to it. Even if you don't understand anything else, please at least see that this is the only thing I can do now, and to delay wouldn't benefit anyone."

Both bodyguards grew gravely silent, and then visibly steeled their nerves. "Please do your best, sir," the taller of the two said quietly, while the other could only nod.

"Thank you, and I certainly will," Fred responded in kind. "Now, if you two are quite satisfied with my well-being and will to live, I would rather like to get whatever sleep I can. We're starting early tomorrow, so bring the car around here at seven."

"Yes, sir, and thank you, sir!" They both bowed to Fred, who bowed his head in return, much to the shock of his guards. They turned on their heels and strode back into Fred's room, shutting the door to the balcony behind them.

Fred turned slowly to face the city yet again. This time, however, it didn't look to him like an entire world moving on without him – instead, it seemed to sparkle with renewed resolve, each one of the thousands of points of light trying its damnedest to reach the stars that would outshine them until long after they burnt out.

"Insurance liability, huh…."

------

"…Nn…"

…

"Fred….

…

"…Fred…?"

Gene shot up, startled out of sleep. He sat still for some time, trying to catch his gasping breath while the moonlight and the streetlamp outside gleamed different colours on skin that was damp with sweat.

Unconsciously, his fingers found his lips and felt them softly – they were still tingling.

_Did…did I just… What did I just dream!_

------

Hidden in the dark on the sofa-bed below Gene's loft, Jim's eyebrow twitched compulsively. While he was glad he no longer had to hear the moans of the man he thought of as his older (and dumber) brother, he had not prepared himself to deal with the effects of Fred's advances on Gene so early on in the game.

With a quiet sigh, he rolled over and threw the covers over his head, all the while despondently recalculating Fred's odds, and how many more awkward nights he'd have to endure.


	8. The Audience

**Author's Note:** Yeah it's been a long time (again), you all know that already... school was much more hectic than I thought it would be for the first six weeks; this was written in these last two weeks after that. It looks like relatively smooth sailing for a while, so hopefully I'll be able to write more and faster (and better) now. Thanks, as always, to everyone who reviewed! It never fails to make me happy to find that there are so many other Fred/Gene fans out there. Rabu rabu!

Also. There is a ridiculous amount of 'fences' featured in this chapter. If you find more than one you get a Gilliam bot cookie.

**Disclaimer:** Hey, I finally learned the name of the guy who owns it! And I've already forgotten it. Oh well. I know it wasn't mine, so there you go.

**Fence**

_Fence-hopping has long been ingrained as a source of entertainment in the psyche of man. The knowledge that he is in uncharted and forbidden territory, the danger of being caught; an addictive thrill indeed. But take care – one day the familiar footholds will wear out, and you might just end up stranded on that mysterious other side._

_------ _

"Food, food, fooood… I need food…"

"There's tea."

"There's _always _tea, Suzu… and tea is not food!"

"It sustains _me_ well enough."

"Yeah, it's not bad for some puny human woman, but we Ctarl-Ctarl need to eat more than old leaf water…" Aisha groused, slumping her back as she walked along after the prim swordswoman known as Twilight Suzuka.

Said swordswoman sniffed almost imperceptibly at the verbal assault on her lifeblood, but didn't find herself to be in the mood to further the argument with the coarse catgirl. Unfortunately for her, Aisha, being Aisha, could never endure silence for long; she let out a catty groan and quickly went back to whining about being fed.

Just as Suzuka was beginning to calculate how many critical hit points on Aisha's body she could strike in under three seconds, both women were interrupted by a cry that echoed down the narrow passageway.

"That came from the bunks…" Aisha said, ears twitching ever so slightly. Then glee spread across her face: "Captain's bunks! Or captain's-and-_friend's_ bunks," she added with a snicker.

Suzuka gave a brief nod, but stayed exactly where she was.

Aisha took a few silent steps forward, realized that her companion was not doing likewise, and turned around. "Don't you wanna go see, Suzu-chan?"

An elegant brow was raised. "…It could be nothing serious."

"Hmm?" Aisha leaned forward. "Nothing serious? Of course it could be serious! Do you have any idea what could be going on in there right now? You saw them yesterday, right?" She asked conspiratorially.

Suzuka turned her face aside; to her horror, she was blushing.

"Ahh! Suzu-chan, you're embarrassed!" Fangs exposed themselves in feline felicity, and Aisha grabbed Suzuka's wrist and proceeded to drag her down the hall. "Don't worry, Suzu, you have nothing to be ashamed of. All girls want to see it!"

In spite of all her years of training, killing, and being feared by the general populace in her section of the galaxy, Suzuka was still not a match for the brute strength of a Ctarl-Ctarl. Before she could even find her voice to protest, Aisha was pulling her closer and shushing her into silence. "They might stop if they hear us, Suzu-chan, shh!"

They were pressed against the wall outside of Gene's quarters, which had (for lack of space) been housing the newly-acquired Fred Luo at night, and the door to which had been conveniently left cracked open. Aisha's super-sensitive ears were at attention, but the sounds coming from within could be heard even by Suzuka, who quickly identified the voices of the Outlaw Star's newest crew member, along with its captain.

"…Don't you think it's a bit too much, Gene?"

"What are you talking about?"

"It's enormous!"

Suzuka felt rather than saw Aisha's tail stiffen in surprise. She herself coloured at the possibilities implied by this thread of conversation, but tried to deny them time to be considered.

"Are you joking, Fred? If anything, it needs to be bigger! Unfortunately there isn't enough space for it to be any bigger and still be able to stay inside."

Aisha's eyes were wide as saucers, and she had to struggle to suppress the choked sound coming from her throat.

"I guess that's a relief for me… but really… how did you get it inside in the first place without me noticing?"

The high colour that had risen to Suzuka's face now drained right from it, returning her to her usual pale complexion and then some.

"Let's just say I have experience with these things."

"…And I thought I had you figured out…"

"You and me, both," Aisha muttered under her breath.

"Hey, after everything you did to me, how could you _not_ think I would pull something like this? You practically forced me to!"

Here Aisha nudged at Suzuka, giggling in a low voice. "We saw some of that yesterday, didn't we? He really did bring it on himself!"

"But I never dreamed you would take such drastic measures! This wasn't what I meant by 'sharing a living space'!"

"Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you tried to straddle me in front of my entire crew!"

"I never would have done it if I'd have thought you were capable of erecting this monstrosity in such a short amount of time!"

"Like I said, it's your own fault it's up now, and it sure as hell ain't coming down any time soon!"

Suddenly the pair inside the room were startled by two loud thumps and a muffled _oof! _As the force of the crash left the door wide open, they looked up and saw a tangled pile of indignant Ctarl-Ctarl and suffocating swordswoman splayed out on the floor.

"Owwie! Jeez, Suzu-chan, why'd you fall down like that so suddenly? Oi, you're bleeding! Did I land on your nose? H-hey, where are you going!"

Aisha rubbed at the sore spot on her head that had served as her landing pad, watching her friend run speedily away while clutching her bloody nose. She wasn't left with much time to wonder at Suzuka's escape, however, as suddenly a familiar gloved hand grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and hauled her up.

"Aisha. What the hell are you doing? And what the fuck was _that _all about?" Gene inquired with his signature glare.

"Hey, that hurts!" she cried, clawing at Gene's forearm somewhat unsuccessfully. Gene shook her, demanding an answer with his cocked eyebrow. "Ow! W-we weren't doing anything! We were just walking around and suddenly heard your _boyfriend_ yelling and thought you might be—mrrph."

Gene's hold had loosened at the surprise of hearing _that man _standing on the other side of the room referred to as his boyfriend. While Aisha picked herself up off the floor with a glare, Gene struggled to shrug off the jibe – as much as Gene could shrug anything off. "My boy— what the hell are you— I'd never—! THAT'S THE DUMBEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD COME OUT OF YOUR IDIOTIC, CAT-EARED HEAD!"

"Hmph! I call 'em like I see 'em," came her sniffy reply as she dusted herself off. "You two looked almost as excited as a couple of male Ctarl-Ctarl at the start of mating season yesterday," she added with a cheeky smirk.

While Gene carried on after this remark (and turned an undeniable shade of red), Aisha finally took in the room. She saw Fred a surprising distance away from the redheaded ship captain; but what was more surprising than that was the fact that he happened to be stuck behind a floor-to-ceiling, hastily patched together chain link and wire fence. Aisha blinked up at it a few times, before turning back to Gene. "Hey, has that giant fence always been there?"

"Of course not, you idiot! Who the hell would want a giant fence in their bunk!"

"Well then why is it there now!"

"Because a certain SOMEBODY in this room can't keep his hands or his tongue to himself!" Gene threw a glare over at the sullen face behind the fence before really grasping what he had said, but Aisha was already cackling.

"Sh-shut up, you stupid animal! I don't know why I keep thinking I can get through to something with the brain of a retarded housecat." With that spiteful comment, Gene turned away.

The muscles in Aisha's face twisted into a snarl; but before she could fly into one of her prideful rages, Fred grasped desperately at the links in the fence. "Please, young lady! I've just had this ship fully repaired, I can't afford to service it on Gene's credit again… If you really have to destroy something, at least make it this stupid fence!"

Aisha turned already slitted eyes onto Fred. "Oh no, I'd much rather destroy the human on this side of it."

Fred's voice took on a pleading tone. "You know that never ends the way you or anyone else wants it! I'm on this damn ship to prevent further damage to it!"

"You think I care about that? Anyone who insults the great Ctarl-Ctarl deserves what's coming to them – unspeakable pain and a slow, torturous death!"

Gene, quite forgotten during the exchange between the two, blinked bemusedly at them for a moment before crossing his arms above his head and leaning against the wall. He had weathered Aisha's tantrums many times before, and knew as well as Fred that the only one likely to suffer injuries at their expense would be whatever four walls happened to be housing them at the moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small crowd of Gilliam bots lining up a safe distance away from the irate catgirl, while the mobile pink one peeked inside from around the door. All were watching, waiting for the inevitably large amount of damage about to be done to the ship's interior.

Gene, on the other hand, opted to go make himself a sandwich in the galley.

Much to Fred's horror, he now found himself alone with an unreasonable felinoid typhoon who had no interest whatsoever in freeing him. She had yet to notice that her prey had turned tail.

_'I'm going to kill him!' _he thought to himself. _'I've got to keep talking, at least enough to convince her to let me out…'_

"A…alright," he began, hoping the murderous intent that twisted his voice passed off as defeat. "You want to cause him pain and suffering, right?"

Knuckle cracks and a lick of the lips served as her answer.

_'How did Gene manage to travel for such a long time with this woman?' _Fred couldn't help wondering with a touch of awe. "Well…if you come a bit closer, I can tell you the best way to make Gene Starwind suffer."

Aisha's furry ears twitched up and down, almost thoughtfully. The low and taunting voice that the dark-haired man was speaking in appealed to something in her animal instinct. The carnal excitement drawing up in her from the anticipation of learning her prey's weakness, she moved forward, unblinkingly turning her ears to focus on his words. "Tell me," she growled, a hungry smile baring her teeth.

Fred made sure she was in no position to be looking around for the missing Gene, then spoke lowly. "If you really want to make him miserable, for days, weeks – even months after this moment – leave him alone in my company as often as possible."

Confusion crossed the bestial face in front of him for a moment; then Aisha blinked, and slowly regained her usual visage. She tilted her head at Fred. "That'll make him suffer?"

Fred nodded sagely, trying desperately to hold in the bitter laughter that threatened to bubble up at her absurdity. "Why do you think he built this fence in the first place? If there's one thing that never fails to get under his skin, it's close contact with me." He tried to ignore the sting of pain in his chest from saying the words aloud.

"Hmmm…" Aisha frowned to herself, trying to remember Gene's reactions to the man stuck behind the fence. Now that she thought about it…

"He doesn't seem to like having you around at all!" She came to her conclusion brightly.

Fred's sharp brow twitched, and he spoke through only slightly gritted teeth. "Exactly my point, young lady. So you see…"

"Say no more, merchant man! Aisha Clanclan is on the job! You might want to back away a bit." The warning was barely past her lips before clawed hands were grasping the chain link before her and ripping it apart, her arm muscles bulging through her shirt. The force rippled through the flexible metal, and with a great crash the rest of the fence came down, leaving the two of them standing in the middle of the rubble.

Aisha dusted off her hands, a satisfied smile gracing her lips. She gave Fred a pat on the shoulder which nearly sent him to the ground, then pulled him to her side like they were best friends. "Piece of cake! Speaking of which, I still haven't had lunch. Come on, merchant man, let's go get some food!"

She began leading (or dragging) Fred across the remains the broken fence, chatting happily. "I feel like I haven't eaten for _hours_. I hope you're not too hungry, 'cause then there'll be more for me! And then after food we'll get you and that idiot alone together – hey, where is Gene anyway? Wasn't he right here? That coward! Running off before I could kick the shit out of him! Just for that, he'll be stuck with you for at least two hours today, if I have anything to say about it!"

------

All Fred had hoped to gain from his baiting of the catgirl was his freedom from behind the fence that Gene had pieced together while Fred lay in a sleep induced by a drug slipped into his evening tea.

What he had actually gained was a freedom far more delectable.

Gene was napping on Aisha's bed, seeing as his was currently buried under endless tangles of broken fence and snapped wire, and it really had been her fault. If he had thought it odd that she had agreed to let him use her personal space while she was working cleanup, he hadn't done anything to show it.

And if he had wondered at how long it was taking the cleanup to finish, considering that Aisha had dragged the rest of the crew to help, his actions had betrayed none of his thoughts as he had flopped down to rest after lunch.

As Fred leaned down from behind the pillow supporting Gene's head to gently grab his face, dark eyes fluttered open to meet half-closed grey. And in the split second Gene had to resist before Fred's lips came down to meet his own, if the redhead had any thoughts about throwing the other man off, none of them shone in his clouded eyes – nor in his compliant, yielding lips.


	9. Catalyst

**Author's Note:** You know, I give up on predicting when I'm coming out with shit. I always say that I'll work on writing when I have free time, but something ALWAYS happens that takes that time away from me - be it computer problems or unexpected trips or extra work. Rarr.

So anyway, here's the next chapter. Be warned, this one is a bit...different from what you might expect. I don't know where this came from, but once it came to me I put a lot of thought into it. I hope you can enjoy, or at least be somewhat confused. Confusion. Makes. Things. Interesting.

**Warnings:** Strong language...stronger-than-usual language, I guess. Severe backstory. Oh and mental anguish...a lot of it.

**Disclaimer:** Some of the things in this chapter are mine...but none of the good things everyone's really here to see.

------

**Excessive Chain**

_A chain reaction: a series of consequences resulting from the actions of a single catalyst. Science has learned to control the path of a reaction to garner a desired result; the same can be said even for some of humanity. But once the reaction is set into motion, who is to say how long the chain will get before the desired result is achieved?_

------

A tall, shadowy figure stumbled its way down the empty sidewalk – no one ever walked here this time of night, as the streetlights had been dead for months and no one had yet bothered to do anything about it. It was a bad area, anyway.

That kind of thing didn't bother the man wandering the streets when everyone else in their right mind had long since gone to sleep. Not much bothered him; he was big, strong, and while not exactly scary-looking, could be quite intimidating when rubbed the wrong way. Tonight, though, he was just hammered.

Normally he was quite a cheerful, hearty drunk. He was also quite difficult to even get drunk in the first place, and the fact that he almost lost his footing more than once on the same block would have made those who knew him rather worried. He was grateful that none of those people were around. Nope, not a single, solitary one of–

"Marlow? Is that you?"

_'Dammit.' _The man, discovered to be Marlow, was slow to think of what to say. Even if he hadn't been completely trashed he wouldn't have known what to say – which was why he had been walking alone, avoiding the very man that now stood a few feet behind him. He cleared his throat with a cough, and made a show of putting the half-empty bottle had was carrying down on the ground so he could more easily tug at the sleeves of his coat; he needed something to do with his hands. "Of course it's me," he replied gruffly, words deceptively unslurred. "Who the hell else would it be?"

"Hah, I suppose that's a good point." He heard the new arrival laugh a little uneasily; he could even almost hear him putting his hands up in a sign of surrender, could almost hear the worry sure to be shining in the man's eyes. It made Marlow feel bad; but, more importantly, it pissed him off.

"What are you doing out here, Roy?" Marlow asked, turning himself halfway round to lean against the wall of the building in front of which they had ended up. "Figured you'd be tearing up the town on your last night as a free man."

"…I wasn't really in the mood to tear things up tonight," the other man replied quietly.

"Really," Marlow drawled. He brought his hands up and tucked them behind his head on the wall, and stared up at the clear night sky, ignoring the slight blurring around the edges of his vision. "That's a shame. I've been doin' a number on every bar in sight all night long in your honour."

Roy was silent. Marlow felt his saddened gaze as though it were burning holes in his face, and it made him even angrier. He glared up at the cold, distant stars above them, and for a second almost believed that they could feel the heat of his rage.

A soft, familiar sigh brought him back to the ground. "Marlow…"

"Don't start," he interrupted sharply. "I already know; there's nothing either of us can do, and that's that, right? Fine, that's that. I've accepted it, I _know _you've accepted it; we're moving on."

"Then why won't you look at me?" Roy said it so softly, but his voice still broke before it was over.

That small crack in his voice was all Marlow needed to snap, though. Before he even registered what he was doing, he was off the wall, spinning around to grab his last bottle of booze and hurling it like he wanted it to break orbit. Had they inhabited a less populated planet, he felt he might have succeeded; as they didn't, it went as far as the building across the wide avenue, where it promptly exploded and showered down countless glass shards and a pungent liquid the colour of old blood.

"You want me to _look at you_?" Marlow said, breathing heavily from the strength of the emotions roiling within him. "How can I ever look at you again? After all _this_!" He slammed a fist into the wall behind him with the last word.

Roy couldn't help himself: he jumped at the display of rage, and light from the moons above illuminated two fresh, hot trails staining his cheeks; but they remained unseen as Marlow still refused to glance his way. He struggled to stay standing, and a small, choked sob escaped his lips for his efforts.

And finally Marlow whirled around, turning his blazing black eyes onto the other man. "You– what are you trying to pull! Don't try that shit on me, goddammit!"

But tears only continued to fall steadily down Roy's face under the force of Marlow's glare, and another, much stronger sob wracked through his body. He began to sink to the ground.

"Don't pull this shit!" Marlow yelled again, lunging forward and clamping his hands around Roy's arms to keep him in place. It must have hurt, he knew it had to, but the smaller man didn't even wince for fear of breaking the eye contact he had wanted so desperately. Marlow shook him, wanted to break him. "Don't fucking act like you care now!"

"I _do_ care, you s-son of a bitch," Roy forced out through his trembling breaths.

"Bullshit," Marlow growled. "All these years, hell our _lives _together… after all this time, you still threw it all away in one afternoon. One afternoon meeting with your goddamn neighbors and suddenly it's 'Hey Marlow! Sorry but it's all over!' You _can't_ care if you let that happen! Those things coming out your eyes aren't tears! You _can't_ be crying! You don't _get_ to cry! I'm the one who should be crying, dammit!"

He hadn't noticed when they'd fallen to the cold cement sidewalk, but there they were, and suddenly Marlow let out a strangled grunt and pulled Roy so close and so tight the smaller man's back cracked a few joints. Roy might have worried about not being able to breathe, but he wasn't so sure he could do so anyway. Then he felt something hot and wet touch the back of his neck, and felt Marlow's hard body shudder with suppressed sobs.

"M…Marlow?" Roy nearly hiccupped.

And then Marlow's sobs became quite audible. They were loud and slovenly, and they poured out along with seemingly endless amounts of tears; Roy's shirt was quickly developing a large dark spot of wet at the shoulder. They were the sobs of a drunk – albeit a genuinely heartbroken drunk.

"Roy… why are you doing this to me?" Marlow said after some time; his voice was thick and strained, stretched out oddly from the effort it took to make himself understandable. He had somehow managed to sink himself down Roy's chest, almost occupying the smaller man's lap. "Don't leave me… what am I supposed to do if you leave me?"

Roy brought a hand to the top of Marlow's head and began to gently smooth down his mess of long brown hair. They both lapsed into a tired silence, neither seeming to notice or mind that they were still in the middle of a public sidewalk all the while.

Just when Roy began to entertain the thought that maybe Marlow had actually fallen asleep (passed out?) right where he lay, the man in question turned his head into Roy's chest and began nuzzling it.

"Roy…" he breathed, clutching at Roy's now thoroughly disheveled shirt. "Roy… don't…leave me…"

Roy struggled to push the heavier man off him enough to get a good look at his face; when he finally managed it, he realized that Marlow was, at most, about half-conscious at the moment. He let out a soft sigh.

"How am I supposed to talk to you when you're like this?" he asked sullenly, getting a low moan and mumble for his trouble. Then, after wiping his face quickly, he set about dragging the inebriated man into the car he had hidden in the alley beside the building in front of which this had all taken place.

------

_Some time later…_

"Nn…"

"Ah… have you about come to yet?"

"Nn…nyuh?"

"Can I take that for a yes?"

Marlow heaved himself into a sitting position and then quickly lowered his spinning head. He pressed at his eyes with a groan.

"Here, drink this," Roy said quietly, guiding one of Marlow's hands to the cup in his own. Without even a glance at the cup, he downed its contents in one gulp.

He was still for a moment; then a grimace of disgust spread across his features, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. "Urgh…what… what did you just give me?" Marlow rasped out.

"Don't worry, that's a Luo family traditional hangover medicine – guaranteed to keep your head on and your stomach in," Roy replied, conveniently not giving away its contents. "Also a rather potent diuretic. And the bathroom's down that hall, first door on your right," he added as Marlow scrambled to his feet, grabbing his crotch for dear life and rushing past the dark-haired man who was trying not to laugh.

Roy's smile faded after the door shut, though, giving way to a sort of pensive sadness. Marlow had only been out for a couple of hours – long enough for Roy to drive them to his apartment in the hills above the city that so many of his better memories had been made in, and to get almost nowhere in thinking of how to talk to this precious man now violating his bathroom.

As if on cue, Marlow strode back into the main room of the apartment, rubbing his head and breathing with relief. "Man, do me a favour and make that last bit of information the _first _bit next time," he said, sounding exhausted.

Roy smiled apologetically. "Of course; but I never imagined I'd ever have to make it for you in the first place."

Marlow waved his hand dismissively with a grunt, plopping himself back down on the couch he'd been occupying previously, across from Roy's chair. Then he seemed to finally realize where he was. "Hey…how come we're at your place?"

"Mm… force of habit with me driving, I guess," Roy replied, rubbing at the lobe of his ear.

Marlow's eyes zeroed in on the movement. "What are you so worried about?"

"Eh?" Roy replied eloquently.

"Your ear. You always do that when you're nervous," Marlow said plainly.

Roy's face tinged pink as he tore his hand away from his face and clamped it firmly in his lap, wondering exactly when Marlow had noticed the habit.

And then the awkward silence descended.

Roy knew he had to say something – he owed Marlow an explanation, after all. But could he just come out with it? Would the hot-headed man even hear him out? What could possibly make him understand? And why did the florescent lighting always sound so damn loud during these weird, tense silences?

"Roy."

Roy's eyes widened and he jolted back into the cushions of the chair; he hadn't even noticed Marlow stepping right in front of him until they were eye-to-eye. "M-Marlow, don't do that!"

"Don't space out then! That's my job," Marlow replied, turning away. "Anyway, if you've got something to say to me you'd better say it." The implied _'While I'm still willing to give you the chance to talk' _was not missed by the young Luo heir.

Roy stared down at the hands he had clasped together in his lap. "Marlow, I… about the marriage, it's not what you think…"

He paused to look up at the other man, who was still standing and facing the windows, half-expecting him to interrupt with another bout of anger. When nothing of the sort happened, Roy went on. "A… a long time ago, when we were just kids, my family and her family lived almost right next to each other. We spent a lot of our early years in those houses, and grew pretty close – as close as two toddlers of the opposite sex can. Even then, there was talk about having us marry when we were grown up.

"Both of our families grew in wealth rapidly. But… but the Luo family fell behind. My father worked day and night, was almost never home… and when he _was_ home he was angry that his company wasn't doing as well as he had hoped. Things only got worse when she and her family moved to another planet to expand their medical business. It was around then that we moved here… when I met you."

Roy looked up at Marlow again to try and find any sort of reaction he might be having to his words; for all his trouble, he may as well have been watching a statue. He swallowed hard and continued, praying Marlow wouldn't leave or shut him out before he was through.

"Th-things got better for us, slowly… financially and even otherwise. Obviously after all these years my father did better business. Things were really looking up… and then, recently… they came back.

"It seems that while their business had boomed for a long time, they placed their books in the wrong hands. They were almost ruined, even as one of the top three suppliers in this sector of the galaxy. S-so they came back… with a proposal for my father.

"At first… at first he had planned to give them audience so he could take the time to savour denying them anything of the sort. But it wasn't just a marriage proposition… they had a business plan that went with it. They have the reputation that we lack to gain a real foothold in the market, and we have the means to get their products around without the fees they can no longer afford – not to mention a strong link to the underground and black markets that always need off-record medical care. The perfect match for them, a matter of convenience.

"But… so you see, it's not that this was planned, or even what I wanted. Marlow… I never wanted this to happen…"

Finally Marlow turned around, his gaze cold and full of loathing – though at who or what it was aimed exactly even he didn't really know. "But it _did _happen," he said lowly. "You _let _it happen even though you didn't want it."

Roy was taken aback and replied somewhat angrily. "What choice was I given, Marlow? I didn't even have any say in the matter! It was decided while I was out with _you_, as a matter of fact!"

"You could have said something when they told you about their plans!" Marlow fired back, gritting his teeth.

Roy got to his feet. "And what could I have said? 'Sorry, father, but actually I'm a flaming fag and I'd rather run off with my gay lover, leaving you with no one to inherit the business that you built with your own two hands and Lorie and her family destitute and in ruins'?"

"Why the hell not! It's the truth, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's the truth!" Roy practically screamed. He shot out one of his legs, kicking over the low table that stood between his chair and the couch. "Don't you know I'd rather lose all these things, everything tied to my family name –even my family itself!– if it meant I could be with you? None of this shit means anything to me!" He grabbed a vase that had fallen off the table without breaking and threw it with all his might against the wall behind him. "None of it!"

Marlow lowered the hand he had thrown in front of his face against the shards of glass and ceramic. "Then why don't you give it up? Why can't you be with me!" he asked, trying to hide the fact that he was shaken by the almost never seen outburst of violence from Roy.

"Because you would never let me! And – and I can't do that to you! I can't do that to my family either, or to Lorie. But… you'd n-never let me…" Roy fell to the floor suddenly, clenching his fists over the fine rug that lay there. "Every day we'd be together, and every day you'd hate yourself for making me lose everything, for making me ruin my family. Even if I were to tell you a hundred times each day how happy I was, you would never stop feeling guilty. And then… and then one day, you'd leave me saying it was for the best, I know you would. I know you would!"

Tears dripped from Roy's eyes for the second time that night, and Marlow was rendered silent. He had been so angry when he heard the news of Roy's engagement, he'd never given a thought to how their future might have gone if Roy had agreed to leave with him. But Roy was right; and even now, a tight ball of guilt was twisting in his gut at the thought of ruining the man he loved, and he hated himself all the more for it.

Roy sniffed and went on thickly. "E-even if you didn't… my family would n-never let us go. We'd be chased, hunted down until my father's men finally caught us. We wouldn't be safe anywhere – my father has too many ties around here, too many dangerous connections, and too many favors owed him… He might even give the order to have you k-killed, if that was what it took to get to me. If… if you died…" he trailed off, hugging himself against the chill the thought brought to him.

Marlow padded over to Roy and squatted down before him. Roy made no move to either say or do anything, so Marlow gently took him into his strong and shaking arms. Instead of fighting him off like he had feared, Roy instantly melded himself to Marlow's body and couldn't hold him tightly enough.

They remained like that for long, arduous minutes. Though neither of the men spoke of it, they both had the same bubbling of unease, frustration, and sorrow in their stomachs. Thoughts of escape even now formed in their minds, and all were flawed and ultimately pointless. All they could do was take hold of each other silently, sharing in each other's presence and praying that tomorrow would never come – even as the sky, so open through the large windows of the apartment, lightened to the familiar purple dawn all too quickly.

As the sun's first weak rays crept brokenly along the debris scattered across the floor, both men stirred, as if woken from a deep dream.

"Roy," Marlow's voice came softly.

"Hm," Roy responded just as fragilely.

"…I love you."

"I know," Roy whispered, running cold fingers through long brown locks. "I've always loved you, Marlow."

Marlow brought his head up off of Roy's shoulder and touched their foreheads together. "I know you have." Letting out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, Marlow suddenly grinned.

"What?" Roy asked with a minor pout in his voice, though he couldn't help the relief that flooded through him to see the familiar smile of the other man once again.

"Nothing," Marlow said, hoisting one of Roy's hands from out of his lap. "I've just…been meaning to tell you that for a while now."

"An idiot, as always," Roy replied. "You always did have a thing for being fashionably late."

"And it always did get on your nerves," Marlow retorted. He brought the palm of Roy's hand to his lips and placed a warm kiss in its center. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Roy said, barely audible as he watched his hand in that of the man he loved.

"Roy…" Marlow suddenly clasped Roy's hand in both of his own and stared the other man straight in the eyes. "I'm not gonna leave you, Roy, so don't you go leaving me."

"I– w-what? But we just–"

Marlow shook his head, not letting go of Roy's hand. "I know, but not like that. Okay, so maybe we can't be together the way we want, and sure, maybe there ain't anything we can do about it. But I'm not going anywhere, except wherever you are. It took me fifteen years to catch a hold of this hand, you'd have a hell of a time taking it away from me."

"W-what are you saying?" Roy asked, trepidation shaking his voice.

"I'm saying that you're not going to be alone in…all of this," Marlow said, turning his eyes around the room before resting them once again on Roy.. "I'm saying that you're gonna go get married, and you'll kiss your bride, and you'll have yourself a family. And you'll keep up the family business, and you'll fit a better family into it. And – and you'll be happy," he finished firmly.

Roy blinked at first, letting the words sink in. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at his lips. "A better family, huh? A loving father, a sweet mother – and a child that will have the freedom to choose his path in life, is that it?"

"You always were the smart one," Marlow said with a half-smile.

Roy was quiet for a few moments, seemingly mulling over the idea. "…Okay."

"Okay?" Marlow echoed.

Roy nodded. "Yes. It's a good idea, and I'll do it… but on one condition."

Marlow's eyebrows lifted. "Oh? And what would that be?"

"You have to do it too," Roy answered seriously.

"Me…? Do what, get married and make babies?"

"Yes." Marlow looked utterly confused, and Roy found it annoying adorable.

"But…why? I'm not the one with the psycho-papa."

"Exactly," Roy replied, shifting his gaze down to their still-joined hands. "You don't have any family left…surely you don't expect any offspring of _mine_ to get anywhere in life without a Starwind in it."

Marlow blinked a few times, and then smiled as he squeezed Roy's skin-warmed hand. "I can't argue with such flawless logic. So be it! You'll marry your woman and I'll find myself one – shouldn't be too hard, they seem to like me well enough."

Roy half-heartedly smacked Marlow's head with his free hand. "You really are an idiot," he said affectionately.

"But I'm your idiot, aren't I?" the other man said with another grin.

"Always," Roy replied, grasping the smiling face he loved and sealing their decided fate with their last kiss – made sweet from their smiles, and bitter from the salt.

------

"Hmm…"

"What are you 'hmm'-ing at, Fred?" Gene asked somewhat sourly from his position crouched by one of the many control consoles that surrounded his pilot's seat, where he was attempting to make some adjustments while ignoring the protests of Gilliam.

"Nothing," Fred replied absently. "Just this picture…"

Eager to have even a small break from his ship's griping, Gene set down his tools and walked to where Fred was seated on the floor to one side, a cracked frame beside him. "Picture?" Gene inquired, peering over Fred's shoulder. "Hey, aren't these…"

"Our fathers," Fred finished for him. The picture was old, but well preserved. The colours had faded very little in the two decades and then some since it had been taken, and in it the two men smiled, arms swung around each other's shoulders companionably.

"I swear my old man had that same picture somewhere in his garage," Gene said almost reverently, referring to his father's old workplace.

"Mine had it in his office for as long as I could remember," Fred answered in a similar tone.

"You brought it with you on this…"

"I couldn't seem to leave it behind."

"…So what was the 'hmm' for?" Gene asked after a silent pause.

"Well… I was taking the picture out, since I need to fix the frame." Fred fingered the edges of the snapshot gently as he spoke. "In all my life, I've never seen it out of this frame, so I guess it makes sense that I'd never noticed it before, but…" He flipped it to the other side, holding it close to his face.

"It's a… promise, you… idiot." Gene read aloud into Fred's ear, squinting at what remained of the rubbed-away ink from right over the dark-haired man's shoulder. Then he blinked. "Huh? I don't get it."

"I don't either," Fred said, shaking his head slowly and turning back to the image of their smiling forebears. "I remember asking about this picture when I was a child, and my father told me it was taken the morning of the day he married my mother. He took me to visit your father for the first time shortly after that… Hey, that wasn't too long before we were finally… introduced…."

The words died on his lips, as he had turned is head to face Gene and found just how close they had inadvertently gotten to each other to share in this discovery. They stared at each other, eyes wide, noses almost bumping, breath hitching.

Suddenly Gene caught himself, coughing a bit and standing upright again. "The… the stuff you need to fix the frame's in the smaller compartment in that box," he said gruffly, pointing to the tool kit that rested where he had been working previously. Fred nodded quickly, and with that Gene turned and walked out, a faint tint of red on his face.

Fred looked after him until the cockpit door slid shut behind him. He turned a strange, questioning gaze back to the photo in his nervous fingers, unsure of where his thoughts were trying to go. He stared at the image of his late father, and for a fleeting moment he thought he saw a glimmer of sadness in those eyes so very like his own.

"Father…"


	10. Design Flaw

**Author's Note:** Hey all. Um...actually, the notes about the story are at the end of the chapter. I really just wanted to say thank you to everyone who either reviews or keeps up with this story, because I have a good idea of what you're all going through with such a lousy updater for an author. And special thanks to Veggiefan2k4 for leaving an awesome review that really made me smile during a very, very, very bad week.

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Outlaw Star and its characters, Melfina would end up with Harry and Fred would have done Gene looooong ago, and then I wouldn't have to waste my time getting them together this late in the game. Srsly.

------

**Our Distance and That Person**

_It is in the nature of humans to give and receive pain. It is also in their nature to allow their emotions, the byproducts of the presence and absence of pain, to dictate their actions. Just the same they are fascinated by those that share in these natural inclinations – even to the end of creating them with their own bruised hands._

------

I thought I had come so far. I mean, I know I've come a long way – the me of today is a far cry from what I once was. I thought that since I had already lost myself in the highest of all human feelings that there was little else for me to experience.

When a computer is given a whole number to work with, the infinite combinations of other numbers that can be used to reach it are simply implied as a given. I suppose the same can't be said for emotions.

What was that word they always used for me… _naïve_? Is that a feeling?

------

Luo-san is talking to Jim about the port we are about to leave. Jim seems to be at ease, at least more so than he used to be around that man. I asked Jim once about why he would get so uneasy around Luo-san, but he just said something about him being 'one of _those_'. I still don't really understand what that means, but I've never seen anything to indicate he was defective, so I never said anything more about it.

I didn't mind having him come aboard; I had never minded him at all. He was always polite to even me, who knew (and still knows) so little about the universe. To me, who once held all the possibilities and answers in the universe and gave them all up for a human emotion. Or was it a human whim? How do humans ever tell the difference?

I still don't mind the extra crew member. Even now, watching him smile with Jim, I see nothing to incite negative feelings towards him. He doesn't make me afraid or confused, like Harry did. He doesn't make me sad like Gene sometimes does. And he certainly doesn't make me feel unsafe.

I can hear Gene's heavy boots on the floor outside the room, and I can feel my heart go a few calculated beats faster. I can't tell if it's from the sudden noise or the knowledge that Gene is coming, but I do know that this is my usual reaction for both of these occurrences.

I welcome him back from his outing, and tell him that now all of the crew is present and accounted for so we can leave whenever he likes. 'Thanks, Mel,' he says along with one of his half-smiles, and I can feel what I now recognize as pride welling up for getting the reaction. I smile back, as usual.

'Gene!' Luo-san says from his spot by Jim. He sounds almost as though he's admonishing Gene. 'Did you get it?'

'Yeah, yeah, I got your little trinket,' Gene answers. He furrows his brows as he tosses a small package to Luo-san, but I don't see any true ill will in the action. A fake emotional reaction?

Luo-san catches the package and clutches it to his chest as though it is precious. 'A trinket? This so-called trinket could very well save your life someday!' He sounds affronted.

'What is it?' Jim asks.

'A con, that's all,' Gene says. This time he sounds honestly upset.

'Really, Gene, look who you're talking to. You think I wouldn't know a con when I saw one? This is from a long-trusted vendor, I'll have you know.'

'He looked like a sleaze ball to me,' Gene replies.

'You should listen to him, Fred,' Jim says, grinning. 'Aniki's taught the best of the worst sleaze balls all he knows.'

Gene glares and strikes Jim over the head after his comment, and I feel my usual laughter at their antics bubbling up. I start to cover my mouth out of courtesy, when Luo-san's voice cuts through Jim's protestations.

'Really, James, don't you think I have better taste than to fall for a sleaze ball? I ought to smack you too!'

'Eh?! B-but Fred – ouch…'

'Fred, knock it off.'

'But Gene, I was only defending your honour!'

'…I don't need my honour defended by anyone, especially not by you!'

'It's okay, Gene, you don't have to be embarrassed. I just can't stand having my tastes criticized by amateurs in any field.'

'Ewww, as if I'd want to be an expert in man-hunting–ow! Aniki, make him stop!'

I don't really understand where the conversation is going. While I automatically compare my information on experts in the field of hunting to man in general to try to get an idea, I notice something unusual. I am watching Gene, or rather I am unable to look away from him. Sometimes my body reacts before my mind registers what's going on, and for some reason my eyes have focused on Gene's face, while that typical laughter of mine dies before it can escape my mouth. Then my mind catches up with my eyes, and I see why.

Gene is blushing.

I have thousands of shades of red logged into my mainframe. It is not an unusual thing to see one of those in Gene's face, and to see which shade shows for which emotion. I have seen anger, rage, embarrassment, confidence, pain, frustration, and all forms of bravado in his face, but this is an entirely different shade. I feel like I've seen it before. Quickly, I begin scanning through previous applications of this colour.

'Look, can we drop this and get the hell out of this lousy space port already?' I hear Gene's voice, muted by my frantic scanning. 'Gilliam, when are we clear?'

'The control tower has cleared us for takeoff in eleven minutes. As soon as Melfina takes her place in the navigation controls I can prepare for our departure.' Gilliam always sounds so calm.

'Great! Mel, you ready?' Gene turns to me, and all I see are the traces of the alien red on his face. And in the face of it, I suddenly place where I have seen it before.

It was the flustered man in a park area on Symka 5. He was kneeling before a young woman, holding her hand gently but nervously with one of his own, and worrying a small black box behind his back with the other. He had looked anxious until he presented the woman with the box, opening it to reveal a simple ring with a tiny, glittering stone set in the band. I had watched her nod several times, and then smile one of the brightest I have ever logged into my memory. She had thrown her arms around the man, and he got to his feet and kissed her quickly before returning the embrace. They had inadvertently turned a bit, and I had seen the man's face. It was flushed with…

…Pleasure?

Yes. That was what it had been. That is what is struggling to fade from Gene's face. But I don't understand what the pleasure is from. Based on past encounters with Luo-san, even or especially with Jim there, this kind of situation should have coloured Gene's face with anger and embarrassment. Maybe there was some embarrassment there too, but… pleasure?

'Um, Mel? Did you hear me?'

I blink at Gene's question. I tell him yes, I did hear him.

'Oh…okay, just…making sure. You alright?'

I'm fine, thank you.

'So… we'll be ready for takeoff soon?'

Yes.

My eyes switch over to Luo-san for a moment, and in that moment a deep and steady burning settles in the pit of my stomach. It is unfamiliar and overwhelming, and I take an unconscious step back. What is this feeling? It's almost like anger, but somehow it seems a bit more… dangerous.

I turn away from them all and make my way to my navigation control chamber. I can imagine them staring as I go, and I wonder if this is what humans mean when they say they can feel someone's eyes boring holes into their backs. I don't feel anything, though, and prepare for takeoff.

------

Silence followed Melfina's exit – for about two seconds, anyway.

"What was that?" Gene mutters into Jim's ear, looking put out.

Jim shook his head and said nothing, but couldn't help sneaking a guilty look at Fred out of the corner of his eye. Even to a young boy whose life revolved around electronic interactions rather than human ones, the look in those dark grey eyes was clearly readable.

_'I am sorry,'_ Fred thought, turning his eyes back to a disgruntled head of red hair. _'But I was here first.'_

_  
_**Author's Note II:** I got so used to having the ANs at the beginning, but I don't want to give crap away before you all read it. Anyway. I've never written Melfina before, but she seems to me like someone who would absolutely analyze everything she didn't understand, even if it was something that made her uncomfortable. And she is very much like any human when they're growing up, especially when it comes to love. She has loved, as one must do before one can experience loss. And let's face it, she is the obstacle in this series, which is clearly labeled Fred/Gene.

Also, Gene is pleased because Fred is defending his character. It doesn't seem likely that many people have ever done that for him, so I think that somewhere under all that bravado he really would be happy to experience it. Melfina doesn't understand any of this, so that much was hard for me to get across... I hope this chapter wasn't too bad. At least it's short. I'm more eager to get back to our boys rather than all this obligatory hurdle jumping.


	11. Ambitions

A**uthor's Note: **Yo! It's been a while, hasn't it? Sorry, lots of crap happened/is still happening...between having to put my dog to sleep (wasn't in the mood to write humour, couldn't be helped you know) and piles of schoolwork I barely made the deadline for 30kisses this time, even after getting an extension. But here they return, your favourite space boys and the gang! Thank you all for waiting so patiently, and of course for all your wonderful reviews. Every single one of them always makes my day when I read 'em, and I'm glad you're enjoying the journey thus far.

That being said, while we ARE getting back to Fred and Gene, this chapter is really just setup for the next adventure in the story. Sorry, but it needs to be done. Hope you can enjoy anyway.

Also, about this chapter...Gene is playing a game. A game whose object is for Gene to keep his distance from Fred. Cryptic? Just read on.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, and if the Outlaw Star universe DID belong to me the plot would never get anywhere past Fred and Gene getting it on.

**News; Letter**

_In an age where information spreads across the universe faster than the speed of light, news is big business. With the eye of the general public set on the future, it is a simple thing for the ghosts of the past to sneak in under the radar and help shape that bright, dreamlike future for which we all yearn._

------

_'This is a spaceship. A spaceship. This is a spaceship…'_

Gene knew this fact well enough without having to tell himself repeatedly, but his monotonous mantra had long since lost all meaning. Eyes glazed over in stupor, mouth unknowingly agape, Gene simply stared at the titanium ceiling above him, remarkably bored, reminding himself that the quarters were _supposed _to feel small, that the air was _supposed_ to be stale, that the scenery was _supposed_ to be a sea of never ending black marred by the occasional celestial body…

He rolled onto his side with a groan. How long had it been since his last encounter with a celestial body? A close encounter… with one of those soft, female celestial bodies…

Thankfully, before his line of thinking could further degenerate, Gene was snapped back to the present by a rough slap of coarse paper to his face.

"Ow. What the fuck, Jim?"

"Get up, Aniki!" The paper was removed, and the scowling face of Jim Hawking revealed. "Just because we haven't had a mission in a while doesn't mean you get to slack off in your bunk while the rest of us run maintenance!"

"What are you talkin' about?" Gene glared up at the boy, clearly set on not removing himself from his spot. "That's what Gilliam-bots are for."

"They can't get everywhere, and they can't sign for port deliveries," Jim replied irritably, slapping the thick paper envelope down in front of Gene. "Anyway, this was delivered with our supplies at the last space port. You might want to play it, it's probably another threat from the bill collector's hit men. It's always best to know who you need to run away from."

Jim danced out of range of Gene's swatting arm, blew a ripe raspberry in his direction, and sauntered back to whatever gear bucket with which he was currently amusing himself.

"Little brat," Gene grumbled. He sat up and rubbed his face, slapping his cheeks a few times in an attempt to further wake himself from his daze. He switched on the overhead light, then squinted against the glare from the ivory-coloured envelope and slowly made out the name scrawled on it.

"…Gene Starwindbag."

Gene blinked, then promptly resumed glaring. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

He grumbled as he reluctantly made his way over to the video message player and inserted the small disc that had been enclosed in the offending envelope. His face cleared, however, when the familiar blue robotic suit of the ship repair expert, Swanzo, filled the screen.

"Starwind! I hope this isn't a bad time - or I should say I hope I didn't get you up from any important nap."

Gene's glare quickly regained control of his face.

"Anyway, considering you still owe me for ship repairs until you 'make it big,' I've got some news you'll probably be interested in."

Swanzo's robotic face filled the screen as he leaned into the camera and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "You see, there just _happens _to be a certain popular young songstress who just _happens_ to be getting bigger every day, and who also just _happens_ to have a group of psychotic stalkers who may or may not be out to kill her, maim her, and divide the body parts between themselves. Just what I heard."

_'…Ew?' _Gene hoped this was getting to some kind of point other than to make him regret eating lunch today.

"Well anyway, the important part is that this poor darling girl is going whacko trying to up her security – apparently the group of stalkers have sent her pictures of their practice victims – but she's become so paranoid that she tends to fire any new hands before they can punch out of their first day's work. If you're up for a challenge, she's paying out the nose for people she can keep. Not only that, but she's put a five million-wong bounty on the group that's chasing her. Try not to drool on the video console."

Already halfway through wiping the sides of his mouth, Gene yanked his hand back down and clamped it to his side with a clenched jaw. "A-as if! Stupid old man…" he muttered.

The image of Swanzo appeared to debate something within himself – or really, the eyes of his robotic suit stared blankly, glowing dully into the screen in silence for a few moments. Finally, his ever-present assistant, Mikey, called indistinctly from off-screen and snapped Swanzo to attention. "Almost done, I'll be right there!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Listen, Gene… I'm only telling you about all this because Hilda trusted you. Not just that; you were the last person she trusted, and she trusted you with that ship you're on. If there's anyone who can pull off a stunt this crazy it's you, Gene–"

Half the screen was suddenly taken over by the stern face of Mikey the mechanic. He lifted his protective goggles and peered into the camera. "Hm? Hey Swanzo, this that video message to that Starwind freeloader? Hey Starwind, you better be on your toes! Swanzo's gone and bet the entire refurbishing of a prime piece of garbage that was once a spacecraft on you getting this security gig. If you lose and we go out of business, you'll have more than loan sharks and space pirates on your asses!"

Mikey spared one more glare into the screen over Swanzo's sudden reversion to his native Corbanese tongue. Back on the Outlaw Star, Gene gazed on, not entirely amused.

"A-anyway," Swanzo continued quickly, working past his translator glitch, "the contact info is at the end of this message, you can call them anytime, good luck and good hunting and no need to thank me!"

The two faces of the mechanics froze momentarily, then the image faded to grey, displaying only a few lines of text – a name, a number, and an address.

There were so many things Gene wanted to do all at once; showing remarkable restraint, he first paused to copy down the contact information and remove the disc from the message displayer before chucking it as hard as he could against the farthest wall. The almost weightless projectile did nothing to vent his ire at being played, however, so he grabbed the nearest Gilliam bot and launched it in the same direction as the disc.

At the satisfying clanks and bangs (and only mildly horrified yell) of the small robot, a grin crept its way across his face. Only one thought remained in his mind now:

FIVE MILLION WONG!

------

Fred hummed quietly to himself in the galley as he worked steadily at the pile of clean laundry in need of repair, his current display of an insistence to be a crew member that pulled his weight. While he was perfectly capable of performing the fastest inventory check out of anyone on all of Sentinel III, he hadn't been able to pass up the opportunity to manhandle Gene's unmentionables.

His humming grew just the smallest bit louder as he began work on one of those particular articles of clothing (_'Scraps of cloth!' _he thought joyfully to himself). There was only a small tear in the seam near the top…plenty of time to add a little something extra, unnoticed….

Jim wandered in with a fistful of papers. "These were in storage, Fred; they've all got your name on them, so I didn't want to throw them out."

Fred looked up and beamed. "Ah, thank you, James. Just leave them on the table, I'll look through them when I'm done here!"

"Uh…y-yeah, sure." Jim balked at the grin on Fred's face. It was one he had seen before – and it was usually associated with something uncomfortably… _Fred_. He carefully arranged the papers on the farthest edge of the table as Fred hummed away, smiling to himself. Before Jim could back out of danger, however, he was almost bowled over by an equally happy (and dangerous) looking Gene.

"A-aniki! Watch where you're going, you almost trampled me!" Jim yelled.

"Then stop being such a tiny shrimp!" Gene retorted quickly. "Where's everyone else? MEL! BEAST-GIRL! SUZUKA! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

Aisha responded first, with a loud yowl and quick stomp into the galley. Melfina and Suzuka came in together, the latter obviously unconcerned with such goings on. Melfina asked over the din that was Aisha, "What's wrong, Gene?"

Gene turned immediately from the angered Ctarl-Ctarl and smirked at the room at large. "We have a mission."

"Oh, finally!" Jim said, sinking into a chair at the table covered with clothes.

"This _is _good news," Suzuka said, deigning the occasion worthy of her input.

"Aw, finally! I thought your ass was permanently glued to your bed, it's been so long since we did anything worthwhile…" Aisha trailed off, then burst out laughing at her own joke.

"Alright, SHUT UP." Gene furrowed his brows at the chorus of rude responses, but even they weren't enough to quell his excitement. "This is a big one, maybe _the_ big one. The job itself pays enough to not be disclosed publicly, and then there's the bounty on a group of crazy stalker fans–"

"Wait a sec," Jim said, sitting up straight. "This…this couldn't be the Gelia Banson case, could it?"

"Uh?" was Gene's reply.

"Come on, Gelia Banson! She's only the biggest hit this side of the galaxy in ten years! It's all over the news how she's got crazy stalkers, she's even had to cancel concerts when they threatened to show up…"

Gene raised an eyebrow at his young partner in not-quite-crime. "We have the news on all the time, hoping for a lead on a bounty or job. I've never heard of this Jelly chick before in my life!"

Jim glared fiercely, but couldn't hide the flush of pink on his cheeks. "Y-you probably just don't pay close enough attention! Everyone knows who she is – right, Mel?" He turned to the girl, almost desperately.

"Eh?" Melfina blinked innocently at suddenly being brought into the conversation, then smiled at the boy. "Oh yes, I know who she is! She's the one you always listen to when you're stuck doing inventory for Gene, or when you're helping Gilliam do maintenance in the vents, only then you sing along, and not too badly I might add–mmph!"

Her eyes widened in surprise to find Jim's hand suddenly clamped firmly over her mouth, but the damage had already been done, and Gene was already doubled over in laughter.

"Ha ha ha! Singing in the vents! Ha ha, y-you of all people should know how easy sound goes through those damn things!" He held his sides, letting loose a round of loud guffaws.

"S-shut up, Aniki!" Jim removed his hand from over Melfina's mouth and pointed an accusatory finger at the laughing man. "It's no worse than what you sing in the shower every damn morning!"

"Hey, those are classics that everyone should sing in the shower," Gene said, suddenly quite serious. "And way to get us totally off the point, Jim. Anyway, we're gonna be hired guards for this singer chick who gets off on firing people the day she hires them, so you all better look sharp! If we hold the positions for long enough we'll just have to sit back and let those beautiful five million-wong crazies come to us, and then it'll all be ours for the taking!

"Gilliam, get ready to move fast. Mel, these are the coordinates," he handed her a page printed off hastily by the contact he'd phoned before running into the galley. "Jim, stop grumbling about your pop star girlfriend and go lock down all that crap in storage; take Aisha with you, she'll probably get in the way up here."

"WHAT?! THAT'S IT! GENE STARWIND, I SWEAR ON THE BLOOD OF MY HONOURABLE CTARL-CTARL BRETHREN–"

"We know, we know, come on Aisha before you damage the ship and we can't fly into a spaceport. Again." Jim sighed, shoving the irate catgirl down into storage and falling in after her.

"…Aaand Suzuka's already disappeared, of course," Gene said, mostly to himself. "Good thing we never need her to do anything around the ship, or we'd never get anywhere."

"Done!"

Gene whipped around, startled; he hadn't even noticed Fred throughout his entire spiel, as the man had been all but buried beneath laundry. He blinked rapidly a few times, then assumed his usual I'm-dealing-with-Fred-Luo pose – head down, arms crossed, and frowning. "What's done?" he asked out of habit more than any kind of curiosity.

"This!" Fred said happily, beaming with pride as he held up Gene's favourite pair of briefs. The tear at the waist had been repaired perfectly, but…

"You…you embroidered on them? Why would you do such a– wait. Those are words! WHAT DOES IT SAY?"

Fred gave a knowing chuckle. "Just the truth: 'I got into Gene Starwind's pants.'" Fred gave the dark briefs a little shake for effect. "See? It's a joke!"

Gene's mouth opened and closed rapidly as he tried to figure out which levels of his rage and embarrassment were low enough to be put into verbal form. He settled for 'blind' and flushed a fiery red that Fred found rather charming. "….FRED! DO YOU KNOW HOW DEAD YOU ARE?"

"Oh, don't be so excitable, Gene," Fred replied, waving a dismissive hand and carefully folding the offending underwear. He paused to think for a moment. "At least, not in this situation," he amended.

"…ARGHHH!" Gene stomped his way over to where Fred sat and ripped the underwear from the overly-pleased man's slackened grip. "Of… of all the stupid–! How could you– right in front of everyone…!" He shook the shorts in Fred's general direction as he tried to make himself coherent. Had Gene been in his right frame of mind, he probably would have thought better of what he did out of desperation to get Fred to understand the gravity of what he had done:

Shoving the tautly-spread shorts in Fred's face (strike one), Gene cried, "These were my lucky shorts!"

Fred cocked his head to the side, staring at the underwear in question as it was nearly forced against the tip of his nose. "Oh? Why are they lucky?"

"Because I wore them the very first time I had– I, uh, I mean…um…."

(Strike two.)

"Oho…" Fred raised an appraising eyebrow, one that had rejected hundreds of shipments of sub-standard goods in its lifetime. A slow smile spread across his face. "That's it, then," he said cryptically, turning back to his mending.

Gene was taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor of the other man. "W-what's it, then?" he asked, feeling inexplicably panicky.

_'A pair of briefs; that won't be hard to show up, as far as keepsakes go…' _Fred was in his own world; his thumb and forefinger were already rubbing at his earlobe when he realized that Gene had spoken. "Hm? Oh. Nothing to worry your handsome little head over, Gene!"

He beamed at the nervous-looking redhead, but as he did something odd happened. Quite suddenly, the weight of the years he had been after the man to which that red hair belonged pressed, not down, but up, starting somewhere in the pit of his stomach and rising up to swell his heart. But it didn't stop there; it was as though he was being swallowed from the inside by this feeling, this realization. He had always longed for Gene, always wanted him, always loved him in one way or another, and always seen him as a lost cause. How, then, had this feeling grown into such a monstrous force inside him without his knowledge? He had often thought he was fighting a losing battle; so how long had this… _hope_… been accumulating? Did this mean… was he actually getting closer…?

"Oh…" He had breathed the sound of such a glorious epiphany without noticing.

"…Fred?"

Gene's voice sounded different, too, Fred thought before remembering to answer him. He blinked, realizing he had been staring off into space through Gene, who had a strange look on his face. "What?"

Gene threw him an annoyed look, which suited him better. "Don't 'what' me! You're already in space, try to keep your brain from wandering into a different part of it, huh?"

Fred smiled, giving a little nod. "If the Captain orders," he said, picking up the shirt to which he had meant to be attaching new buttons.

Gene snorted in exasperation, but stayed decidedly quiet about the odd things he had seen reflected in Fred's face only a few short moments ago. He had seen them, or something like them, before in the face of his father. The senior Starwind hadn't voiced what thoughts had brought such peace, such realization, such sorrow to his face, either. But where sorrow had tainted the visage of his father, a childlike clarity had colored Fred's.

Jim sprang out from the doorway to the galley. "Aniki! Everything's strapped down in the cargo hold, including Aisha. She was getting in the way… By the way, Gilliam says he can't account for one of the worker bots. You didn't take one out for anything, did you?"

"Nope. No idea where it could be," Gene deadpanned. "But great! We'll be outta here in no time now, and on our way to fame and fortune!"

"Wouldn't be the first time you said that," Jim replied, though he still looked undeniably excited. "I'll go tell everyone we're gonna be speeding up."

Gene nodded and watched him go. He glanced back at Fred, who continued his work silently but serenely. He watched for a moment, then said in what he hoped was his normal voice, "You gonna be alright in here?" Fred didn't have a seat in the cockpit, after all.

"Of course, Gene!" Fred smiled at him again; not his usual upbeat smile for the customers, but one that showed the honesty in his dark grey eyes. Gene forced himself not to stare, not to try and decipher the meaning of being on the receiving end of such a look, and only nodded before turning about and heading towards the front of the ship.

He wondered, now that he had a few moments to himself to do so. What had just happened back there? What kind of serious thoughts could be brought about by an argument about underwear?

He felt another pang for the fate of his beloved lucky shorts. He had no idea how they could be connected to the change in Fred, or if they really were connected at all. Either way, he had to admit (even if grudgingly) to himself, it was nice to see that lining of sadness – hopelessness? – gone from his friend's face. He hadn't realized that it had always been present until it was gone.

_'Hope it stays gone,' _he thought idly as he crossed the threshold into the cockpit.

(Strike three – going by, unnoticed.)


End file.
